


Year 3: Occlumency and Owls

by Arinus



Series: Calista Snape [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Complete, Dreams and Nightmares, First Kiss, Friendship, Hogwarts Third Year, Legilimency, Legilimens, Mentor Severus Snape, Nightmares, Occlumency, Parent Severus Snape, Parent-Child Relationship, Peer Pressure, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 88,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arinus/pseuds/Arinus
Summary: During her third year at Hogwarts, Calista Snape is finally beginning to find herself, and the strength to tackle flying lessons, false friendships, and the stigma that comes of being Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter.Still, the stigma is nothing to the constant nightmares, and Bellatrix has discovered a chilling new tactic to reach her daughter, one that even Calista's extensive Occlumency lessons haven't quite prepared her for.As if all of that weren't enough, another adversary has surfaced from within: a flustered, uncertain *girl* somewhere inside her hosts unwelcome new feelings, most of them for Marcus Flint.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU, because of addition of Severus' OC daughter, but almost completely canon-compliant other than that.  
> All canon characters are in character, including a believable, but still canon-compliant, Severus-as-a-father/Mentor!Severus
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Flashbacks/references to child abuse (physical/magical), dark magic rituals. PTSD. Necessary for plot, no more graphic descriptions than needed. There IS recovery/redemption.

The morning Calista was set to start her third year at Hogwarts, she didn't want to leave their home. Of course, home wouldn't be here much longer, not for her; they moved out every summer, and all of Calista's things were packed into her school trunk already, with the exception of a few books she didn't have room for, which her father was taking with him.

She wondered, actually, where he would keep them. She supposed he would put them in his study in his quarters at Hogwarts.

Severus paced impatiently in the kitchen; she could hear his footsteps walking back and forth, punctuated by an occasional sigh. "If we don't leave now, you're like to miss the train," he called, and she could hear the irritation in his voice.

"Can't you just teach me at home this year?"

"What? I thought you liked going to school. You have your new classes, and all your friends."

"What if my spell fails in front of Professor McGonagall? She said I'd have to go in a  _first year_  class if I couldn't do it. I'd rather not go to school at all than go back to first year."

"You'll do fine," he said, although he knew he did not sound nearly as patient as he would have liked; he hadn't been kidding. They were cutting it very close for time. "You've been practising all summer - you've got the needle, and you've been doing well with the ruler too. Now grab your wretched cat, and let's go."

She started to drag her things out of her room, and Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Why aren't you wearing your new robes, the ones Narcissa got for you?"

She flushed. She  _had_  put on the new robes at first, but she felt so foolish in them, like she was a hippogriff in a party dress.

"I… I like these ones better."

"They're far too short now, look. You can't wear those, they look ridiculous. Put the new ones on, and be quick about it."

"The new ones look ridiculous," she said, "On me, anyway."

"I assure you, they do not."

She rolled her eyes, but retreated back into her room. When she came out, she had the plainest of her new robes on, the ones that were all black. Because the style of them was such that the bottom front flared open when she walked, he could see that she still had her old trousers underneath. They were purple, and at least three inches too short.

His nostrils flared. Fine. If she wanted to look silly, that was her own business.

"Ready?" he asked, aiming his wand at her trunk, and levitating it.

"I guess."

They actually didn't live too far from King's Cross, but time was short, so he Apparated them both there, even though parents were advised not to, since so many people Apparating in and out of the station was likely to attract Muggle attention.

"Go on," he said, when they had reached the Platform, and porters had taken her trunk, and the crate her cat was in. "I'll meet you at school, all right? I have a meeting with the Headmaster; I have to go."

She nodded. Steam was already coming off the scarlet train. She supposed it would be worse to be standing here alone on the platform in her ridiculous new robes when the train left than to face her classmates in them, so she stepped aboard.

Most of the compartments were full already, but as she walked through, she heard someone calling her name.

"Calista! Come on, I've saved you a seat." She looked up, and saw Olivia waving to her from two compartments up, leaning out of the doorway. What if there weren't any other seats, and she  _had_ to sit with Olivia? Maybe she should have listened to her father, and gotten her things together earlier.

Then, she saw a flash of red hair in a compartment to her left. She turned her head, and saw Percy Weasley, with two girls in Ravenclaw robes.

"Hi, Percy," she said loudly, so Olivia would be sure to hear, "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Percy was saying, but Calista was looking at Olivia. She saw a disgruntled sort of malice pass over the other girl's face, and Calista couldn't help but grin a bit to herself. She was so satisfied with having snubbed Olivia, that it took her a moment to realise Percy was still talking, and that the two Ravenclaw girls were looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry, what was that?" she asked.

Percy's face creased into a slight frown, but he introduced the two girls again.

"I said, Calista, these are my friends. Penelope Clearwater and Amelia Slater. They're in our year."

Calista felt herself scowl, then. She recognised Penelope and Amelia. They had Herbology together, and they weren't exactly friends. In fact, Calista had purposely been a bit rude to them ever since the first day of class their first year, when Amelia had made a snide remark about the new Slytherins not being very bright.

"We know her from Herbology," Amelia told Percy, in a cool tone of voice. "We don't talk, though."

Percy looked between the three girls, perplexed. Calista was still scowling, Amelia was wearing a look of mild distaste, and even Penelope looked a bit put out.

"Well," Percy said awkwardly, looking uncertain. It was an expression he didn't wear often, and Calista thought she didn't like it on him. "We're all in Arithmancy together, you know."

"We are?" Calista asked. "But we're in three different houses."

"Arithmancy classes are shared between all houses," Percy said, and he seemed to be gloating that he knew something about Hogwarts the rest of them didn't. "It's very complicated, you see, and Bill told me that a lot of the students drop it once they realise how much work it's going to be. The first few weeks, the classroom will likely be full to bursting, but it should thin out quite a bit by Christmas."

She nodded, and was glad for the sudden whistle of the train, so she didn't have to think of something else to say. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she could feel Penelope and Amelia staring at her, like there was something wrong with her.

Then there was a commotion in the corridor between compartments, and the sound of someone saying "ow". A few seconds later, a Hufflepuff with hot pink hair stumbled into the compartment where Percy, Calista, and the two Ravenclaws were standing around, looking at each other uncomfortably.

"Oh - hello, then. Mind if I pop in with you lot while I get myself settled?" Nymphadora Tonks asked, bending down to rub her knee. "Damn near missed the train - my trunk spilled open all over the platform, and I had to scramble around picking it up. I still think I missed some of my quills, but it's better than missing the train, eh?"

"Yeah," Calista rushed to say, because at least Tonks was another person she'd been friendly with, "I mean no, we don't mind."

Tonks lifted the hem of her robes, and the leg of a pair of bright plaid trousers underneath, to look at her knee. There was already a blooming purple bruise there.

"Of course, I tripped on the steps on my way into the train," she said, "Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with me."

She released her clothing, and straightened up. "Hey," she said, and she grinned. "I've just realised, we've got someone from all four houses in here, now. That's pretty wicked, right? In a good way, of course," she added, glancing at Calista, almost apologetically.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, I - sorry, I'm just as clumsy with my mouth as everything else. I just meant… well, usually Slytherins keep to themselves a bit, don't they?"

"Maybe that's only because everyone expects us to," Calista said, glancing crossly at Amelia. "Maybe if we didn't get called thick on the first day of school just because we're in a certain house, we'd be a bit friendlier."

Amelia glared back at Calista. "What was that look for? I never called you anything."

"You did too," Calista said, "At the end of the first Herbology class. You said 'The Slytherin students get thicker every year'."

"What are you talking about? I never said - wait a minute. Are you talking about  _first year_?"

Percy looked pleadingly at Penelope, who touched Amelia's elbow; Amelia threw her off, and narrowed her eyes at Calista.

"Me and my mouth," Tonks muttered, stubbing the toe of her trainer into the floor in front of her.

"Are you seriously carrying a grudge against me for something I said in first year? Is that the reason you're always giving Penny and I those nasty looks in class? Like you've never gone and said something stupid when  _you_ were eleven?"

"It was my first day," Calista said, accusingly.

"Yeah," Amelia said, rolling her eyes. "It was mine, too. I can't believe you're holding that against me."

"Well," Calista said uncertainly, "You could have apologised or something."

"I forgot all about it," Amelia said, "How was I supposed to know you'd take it so seriously, and still be upset about it two years later - which isn't healthy, by the way, you should know that. Right, Penny?" and she looked to Penelope for clarification.

Penelope lifted one shoulder, in a delicate shrug. "I wouldn't have let it bother me so long," she said uneasily.

"Right then," Tonks said, precisely in the awkwardest moment of the ensuing silence, "Anyone up for a game of Exploding Snap?"

Calista looked at Tonks, who looked as though she wished she'd picked a different compartment to stumble into, and at Percy, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. She looked at Penelope, whose jaw was clenched anxiously. And then she looked at Amelia, who was glaring at her still.

"That look," Amelia said harshly, "That one right there, that's the one you're always shooting us in class."

"Oh," Calista said, realising that she was indeed scowling. "Oh, you mean the same one you're giving me right now, then?"

"I-" Amelia started, then opened and closed her mouth. Her eyes locked with Calista's and the two glared at each other.

"Wow," Tonks remarked, "It's true. You both have the exact same look, just now."

Calista couldn't help it; the corners of her mouth twitched, and she pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a crooked smile. But Amelia was doing the same thing, trying not to break her angry expression, but losing the battle.

Tonks and Penelope started laughing, and then Calista and Amelia did, too.

"All right," Calista said, when her laughter had more or less subsided, "Fine, then. We're both  _insufferable_." She borrowed her father's favourite word for her. It was funny; he used it of her so often that she secretly felt it was sort of a good thing, although by now she knew that, strictly speaking by the dictionary, it wasn't.

"Oh, good," Tonks said, sounding sincerely relieved, "Are we all friends, now?"

Amelia glanced around at each of them in turn, and made a show of folding her arms and rolling her eyes. "Fine," she said, sounding as if it were anything but. "But I'm not insufferable."

"How about that Exploding Snap game, then?" Tonks suggested again, but Penelope wrinkled her nose.

"I'd rather play wizard chess," she said.

"I agree," Percy was quick to interject. He had his regular, slightly arrogant bearings back, now that the girls seemed to done arguing..

"Well, only two of us can play that at a time," Amelia pointed out, "And since I'm insufferable, I'm going to insist on playing the first game. I want to play against Sn-er, Calista."

She smirked, not quite meanly, but in a manner that could definitely be taken as a challenge.

Calista frowned, and felt herself blushing. "I don't want to play," she said shortly.

"Afraid you'll lose?" Amelia said, grinning loftily.

Calista scowled at her, which made Penelope giggle softly, and nudge Percy.

"Go on then," Penelope said, "I want to see how you play."

"I'm not playing," Calista said again.

"Why not?" Percy asked, "It's brilliant fun; don't tell me you don't like it."

Everyone was looking at her, except for Tonks, who looked put out at the very suggestion of wizard chess.

"Well," Tonks said, "If that's what you lot are going to do, I think I'll head up the train and see if I can catch up with my friends - er, my other friends, I mean - I'm lousy at chess." She affected a very casual look at Percy. "Say, Percy - d'you know where Charlie's at?"

"I suspect he's with the other Prefects up front," Percy replied, "Or else he's with the Quidditch team."

Tonks nodded, and headed for the exit. "I'll catch up with you lot later, then, yeah? Maybe at the first Quidditch practise - think we could use ice cream, instead of hot chocolate now, though. Maybe I'll suggest it to Charlie."

She left, and then it was quiet in the compartment. Amelia looked at Calista, an open challenge still visible in her eyes.

"Well?" she pressed, "Are you scared, or what?"

"I've never played, all right?" Calista growled. "Play without me."

"Are you serious?" Percy asked, just as Penelope said, "Is that true?"

"Well, have you ever played regular chess?" Amelia asked.

"No."

"Oh," Penelope said, "This won't do at all - we'll have to teach you. We  _all_  play chess."

"It's an excellent hobby," Percy agreed, "It focuses your mind; sometimes we play on study breaks, too. You'll love it, you'll see."

Penelope and Amelia played the first game, while Percy chattered at her about the rules. Calista thought he made it more confusing than it had to be, with all of his extra information.

He said things like, "Oh, I wouldn't have made that move - she'll take Penny's knight, yes, but if Penny brings her rook there, you'll see, in a turn or two, Amelia's bishop will be trapped - it's a much more valuable piece, I wouldn't make that sacrifice," when Calista was still trying to figure out which way the pieces moved.

It did look fun, though, she had to admit. She wished she was already good at it, so she could play, but she wasn't about to lose soundly to either Amelia or Penelope, when she was still a bit miffed about the comment about Slytherins being thick; she didn't want to make them think they'd been right, after all.

"Penny's queen has two options now," Percy was saying, "She can knock off the other knight, but then she's out in the open and Penny will need to be much more careful. Or, she can-"

"Will you shut it?" Amelia snarled, glaring up at Percy; her ruddy complexion was a bit redder than usual. "She can figure it out on her own, she doesn't need your bloody commentary every second."

Percy frowned. He glanced at Penelope, a blush rising to his cheeks.

"It does make it difficult to concentrate," Penelope admitted, though she softened her words considerably more than Amelia had.

"Well," Percy said, a bit fussily, "I was only trying to help."

Penelope won that round, which Amelia promptly blamed on Percy's distracting play-by-play. Penelope set the board up for another round, and Percy settled across from her to play.

"I'm not going to go easy on you just because this is a demonstration," Percy warned.

Penelope smiled lightly. "I don't need you to go easy on me in order to thoroughly trounce you," she said.

Amelia rolled her eyes, and plopped herself down on the seat next to Calista.

"I hope you weren't planning on doing anything else in this train ride,  
she muttered, "Because these two take forever. After every move, they have to congratulate each other on how clever they both are. Very  _politely_ , of course."

Calista glanced over at the game.

"Ah," Penelope was saying, "That's quite a good move; I'm not sure what my next one should be, now."

"Nonsense, Penny. I'm sure you have the next three planned out meticulously, no matter which moves I make," Percy said.

Calista raised her eyebrows, and glanced at Amelia.

"Told you," the other girl said, fluffing her brown hair impatiently. "They'll be at it until we get to Hogwarts."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

"All of that seems to be in order," Albus Dumbledore was saying, as he neatened a stack of papers on his desk. They had just finished going over some last minute changes to the curriculum for Severus' sixth and seventh year NEWT classes, based on the material on the most recent exams. "And I trust you'll meet with your new Prefects sometime during the first week of term, and fill them in on the details my letter this summer did not."

Severus nodded. "I will."

"Then it seems the only matter left that we need to discuss is that of the Time Turner applications from Slytherin house," the Headmaster said, and he withdrew a folder from the stand to his right.

Flipping it open, he put his finger on the top form. "The ministry rejected Mr. Logan's request," he said, "They feel he's incurred too many disciplinary actions. They are, however, willing to revisit the application on appeal if he can get letters of recommendation from three professors besides his Head of House."

Severus nodded. "I'll let him know."

"Miss Farley's request has been approved, I trust you'll explain all of the details and restrictions to her."

"Of course."

Neither decision surprises him, really; Dennis Logan was a fairly good student, but was routinely in detentions, and Gemma Farley was a Prefect this year, and was both a good student and a good role model. He had expected the Ministry to approve her request, and probably to deny Mr. Logan's. The one he was truly curious about was a bit more personal though, and the Headmaster addressed that next.

"Calista's application was rejected as well," The Headmaster said bluntly. "I don't have to tell you, I think, that the Ministry generally rejects students who have achieved below par scores on any of their year-end exams."

It sounded as if the Headmaster had more to say, but Severus inserted his response into the pause, anyway.

"I'll tell her," he said, "Did they say whether she can appeal this year, if she brings her Transfiguration marks up, or whether she needs to wait for next year to apply again?"

Dumbledore sighed, and met Severus' gaze directly. "She can't reapply," he said.

Severus frowned. "Very well. That's… disappointing, but I'll encourage her to try again next year, once she's caught up in Minerva's class."

"Severus," the Headmaster said, "I'm afraid the Ministry doesn't want Calista to reapply at all."

"Why not? She's a good student, for the most part. I know she has had some detentions, but if Mr. Logan can reapply, then surely…?"

Dumbledore removed a sheet of parchment from the folder that was open in front of him, and held it out to Severus.

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_The Ministry of Magic is in receipt of an application for a Time Turner, to be used expressly and exclusively for the purpose of attending additional classes beyond which time would normally allow at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for one Calista Snape._

_We must regretfully inform any and all interested parties that the Ministry declines Miss Snape's application for a Time Turner, now and at any future point in time._

_Although we recognise Miss Snape's above-average achievements in several classes, most notably in the subjects of Potions and Charms, it is the practise of this body to systematically deny all requests submitted on behalf of students who underperform significantly in any given subject. Miss Snape's exam scores in Transfiguration bar her from obtaining a Time Turner under this provision at this time._

_Additionally, it is our duty to inform any and all interested parties that Miss Snape has been barred from being considered for any future Time Turner requests. It is the Ministry's opinion that granting possession of such a powerful magical device to anyone who is a direct blood descendant of a person or persons currently incarcerated in Azkaban prison would present a situation of potential danger as such to be considered unadvisable. As Miss Snape's mother, Bellatrix Lestrange, is currently serving a life sentence in Azkaban, Miss Snape is subsequently barred from possessing such an artifact, and any future requests to do so will not be considered._

_Thank you for your understanding and cooperation in this matter._

_Sincerely,_

_Saul S. Croaker_

_Time Keeper_

_Department of Mysteries_

_Ministry of Magic_

"This is grossly unfair," Severus said, unable to keep a snarl out of his voice. "Calista shouldn't be judged on the basis of Bellatrix's actions. She's a  _child_ , not a murdering sociopath."

"It so happens that I agree with you," Dumbledore said, "But I cannot overrule the Ministry of Magic."

"I don't understand. Bellatrix is in Azkaban, so how can she possibly benefit from Calista's having a Time Turner? It's not as though she was just arrested yesterday, either. Do they seriously fear that Calista's going to turn time back seven years, to somehow prevent her mother from being arrested?"

"I believe that is precisely what they fear," Dumbledore said, "You and I know Calista would not choose to do so, of course, but the person or persons making this decision do not."

"They could find out," he snarled, "They could talk to her for five minutes, and realise that she's suffered at Bellatrix's hands as much as anyone. Bellatrix could have received a life sentence for what she did to Calista  _alone_ , had anyone been aware of it."

"I completely understand your frustration, Severus," Dumbledore said, maintaining a calm demeanour, even while Severus himself was glowering. "But let us not forget that Bellatrix was once able to take partial control of Calista's mind and body, here in this very castle. Of course Calista would not  _choose_  to aid Bellatrix, but perhaps she could be forced to do so."

"No," Severus said, "We've removed the memory Bellatrix was exploiting, and besides, Calista's come a far way in Occlumency since then, and I believe she can counter any further attacks of a similar nature. Even if, for some reason, she couldn't, she always tells me when she dreams of Bellatrix. If she were under attack again, I would know it, and could stop it."

"The Ministry is not even aware of this potential complication, so it cannot have been factored into their decision," Dumbledore told him, "I only brought it up to illustrate the notion that Calista does not have to be a willing accomplice to the device being abused. The Ministry may not be passing judgement on Calista by refusing to permit her a Time Turner; they may simply have adopted this blanket policy to prevent children of prisoners from being targeted by the imprisoned's former associates."

"How am I supposed to explain this to her? It isn't enough that most of her childhood was destroyed by Bellatrix, but now her academic career must suffer because of her as well?"

"I can explain it to her, if you wish."

"No," Severus said firmly, "If she's going to hear this news, I at least want her to hear it from me."

"Very well. I do apologise, Severus."

The younger man nodded curtly, and placed the sheet of parchment on the Headmaster's desk, before turning and striding from the office.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When the Hogwarts Express let them off, Calista joined Percy, Penelope, and Amelia in one of the carriages that was lined up, waiting for them.

"These carriages are driven by thestrals, did you know that?" Penelope said as she climbed in. "Only someone who's seen death firsthand can see them, though, so most students assume the carriages are self-propelled by magic, or are driven by horses with a particularly good Disillusionment Charm on them. I'm sure a good deal of the Professors can see them, of course."

"I can see them," Calista said, and all three of them looked at her in surprise. She didn't suppose there was any harm in telling them, because she had already told Olivia, and it wasn't like she had to tell them precisely  _why_  she could see them, anyway.

Besides, after the train ride, where all three of them had eagerly tried to show her how to play wizard chess, she rather wanted to know  _something_  that none of them did.

"What do they look like?" Amelia asked.

"They're quite bony," Calista said, "With great big wings, like a bat's, only much larger. They're sort of lizard-looking in the face, too."

Penelope wrinkled her nose. "Not very cute, are they?"

"They're all right," Calista said, "I don't think they're very vicious, or they wouldn't be pulling students, would they?"

"I suppose not."

"I sort of wish I could see them," Amelia said, "But then, I guess I'm glad I can't, considering." She looked at Calista, who was surprised to register kindness on the other girl's face.

Percy and Penelope were looking at her too, and she was glad that none of them were quite looking at her with pity, although Penelope's expression was something close to it.

"We'll all be able to see them eventually," Percy said matter-of-factly, after several seconds had gone by. Calista was grateful for that, because it seemed to allow them to change the subject.

"I'm a bit nervous about Arithmancy," Penelope said anxiously, "I've heard that Professor Vector is quite strict, and gives more homework than anyone else."

Percy nodded seriously in agreement. "I've been thinking of drawing up study schedules already," he said, "For all of my classes, actually. Third year is when everything really starts accelerating, and I need to be certain I'm on top of all my classes from the beginning."

"Hey," Amelia said loudly, "I have an idea. Let's all make bets, the first day of Arithmancy, on which students we think will drop the course. Whoever gets the most right will win something, maybe a Butterbeer at the first Hogsmeade weekend, or something."

"That doesn't sound particularly kind, Amelia," Penelope said, uncertainly.

"Maybe not, but it does sound like fun," Calista said.

"I agree with Penny," Percy began, and Amelia poked Calista in the ribs.

"He always does," she muttered under her breath.

Percy cast her a brief frown, and continued, "I don't think it would be in the spirit of cooperation and mutual respect for our fellow students."

"Come off it," Amelia said, "You're not a Prefect yet, Percy. Live a little."

Calista grinned. It turned out Amelia wasn't half bad, after all.

"Yeah," Calista chimed in, "Have some fun. Unless you're just afraid of losing."

"I am  _not_ -" he began, but then the carriages were pulling up to the castle, and the rest of what he said was drowned out in the general activity. They poured out of their carriage along with everyone else, and streamed through the Hogwarts gates.

"I'm starving," Amelia said, "I hope the Sorting song is short this year."

Calista stopped short, a few steps inside the gates. Her father was standing there, and his eyes picked her out of the crowd, as if he had been waiting for her.

"Dad?" she looked up at him, questioningly. "What's going on?"

"Come with me," he said, "There's something I need to speak with you about."

"Am I in trouble already?" she asked, alarmed, "What can I have possibly done?"

"No," he said, and he placed his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. "Although I do have to wonder why that is always the first conclusion you draw, whenever you see me unexpectedly."

"Dad," she said, as they separated from the crowd, and walked a bit alongside of it, "I think that's  _everyone's_  first conclusion when they see you unexpectedly."

After they had taken several more paces and he had still not reacted to what she said, she frowned.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" she asked, "You never let me have the last word with something like that."

"I'll explain once we're inside my office."

"I'm getting really worried," she said, "Can you at least tell me what this is about?"

He sighed. "It's about your timetable," he said, and that was all she could get out of him until they reached his office.

When they'd gotten there, he sat down at his desk, and she in the chair across from it.

"I've just met with the Headmaster about your timetable," he said, and he met her gaze directly. "Calista, I'm afraid they won't give you a Time Turner."

She frowned, and then shrugged. "Well, I guess we knew that might happen, right? I'll just try really hard to catch up in Transfiguration, and maybe I can get one in a few weeks."

He leaned forward. Maybe he should have started this conversation in his study, he thought. Now that they had begun it, he felt strange about being on the opposite side of a desk from her. He stood up, walked around to the front of his desk instead, leaned against the front of it while facing her.

"Calista… I've been informed that the Ministry does not think you should ever be in possession of a Time Turner."

He said the words as kindly as he could, but how could you gently tell someone that they were being unfairly judged for the actions of another?

"What? Why not?" Her expression was blank. He could not tell if it was deliberate, or if she simply didn't yet know how to react to what he was telling her.

Severus couldn't quite keep a note of anger out of his words; he hoped she knew it wasn't directed at her. "They seem to be of the opinion that you would use it to free  _someone_  from Azkaban."

Calista's eyes went wide, and then narrowed abruptly. "Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid I am. The same governing body that has several offices dedicated to diluting a stigma against Muggles evidently takes no issue with applying a stigma to a thirteen-year-old witch because of her parentage, knowing nothing else about her."

"That's ridiculous," she managed, and he could see now that she was shocked; her face was paler than usual, and something in her eyes indicated she didn't quite want to believe him. "I'm the  _last_ person that would ever want  _her_  to be free. How could they think I would…"

She trailed off, and for an instant, Severus thought she was going to cry, but then her expression cleared, and her jaw set firmly, eyes going hard.

"I take it they're not going to let me appeal their decision, then?"

"No, they won't."

"So is this some kind of rule," she asked, keeping her voice steady only with considerable effort, "Or does it only apply to me?"

"Supposedly, it is a rule," Severus answered, "Although it is not one I've heard of before. They claim that it is Ministry policy to deny anyone who's a direct descendant of a current Azkaban prisoner."

"I can't possibly be the only one who's ever applied…?"

"You may be, in my time here," he said, "I can't think of any others, at least not from my house, that have applied. Last year, one of my N.E.W.T. students was considering applying for a Time Turner, but elected to drop a couple of classes, instead. If she had applied, theoretically she would have been denied as well, under this  _discriminatory_  policy."

He put a slight emphasis on the word, in an attempt to make his feelings on it clear to his daughter.

"It's a stupid rule," Calista said hotly, "I'm not her. I would never  _help_ her."

"I know."

"So that's it, then? I just… can't take the classes I want to?" she said, savagery creeping into her voice. "That's fine, she probably hasn't ruined enough of my life already, let's let her have this bit, too."

Severus' jaw worked. "I wish I could change this for you," he said, "Or even tell you that it's the last time you'll be unfairly judged. Unfortunately, you're likely to face things like this again and again, especially given which House you're in. There are many out there who admire ambition, so long as it's cloaked in red and gold. When it's the ambition of a Slytherin, though, suddenly it's  _sinister_."

"Wait. Are you saying they might have let me have one if I was in Gryffindor?"

"Obviously, I don't know that for a fact," Severus said, "But let's just say that I wouldn't find it terribly surprising if that were the case. Nevermind that one of the Dark Lord's most notorious followers was a Gryffindor; everyone conveniently forgets about that."

"Can we… can we ask the Malfoys for help?" Calista ventured, "Aunt Narcissa told me that Lucius is on the Board of Governors."

"I'd already thought of that," Severus told her, "Lucius has some sway with certain departments of the Ministry as well, but the decision comes from the Department of Mysteries, and they don't answer to much of anyone."

Besides, Severus didn't relish his daughter owing Lucius anything. It would be just like him to help her out, and then, five or ten years down the road, declare that she owed him something for his help. He'd known Lucius to call in favors in just such a manner more than once.

"So which classes can't I take, then?" she asked, setting her face into a stubbornly blank look.

"As it stands now, you have Care of Magical Creatures at the same time as Remedial Transfiguration, and Study of Ancient Runes at the same time as your extra Potions lessons."

She looked stricken. "But I  _really_  want to take those classes," she said. "I've already read half of one of the books for Ancient Runes. I can't… I can't not take it, I've been looking forward to it since I was eight."

Severus knew it was true, knew that she'd been curious about the subject since the days when he'd read to her from his books in the evenings, and he'd been resolved dragging her bodily from that section of the bookstore when it was time to leave for three years, now.

"I will see what I can do," he said, "Perhaps I can let you off of extra Potions lessons for a little while, until flying lessons or remedial Transfiguration are done."

"I  _like_  those Potions lessons," she said.

"It's the only one of those things that I have any control over." He sighed. "I'll do what I can. I wish I could give you more than that, but I can't. Are you all right to go to the feast, or would you prefer that I have something sent down here for you?"

"What are you going to do?"

"My presence is required at the start-of-term feast," he said, "As it is, I've likely missed the Sorting; I'll probably have to make an appearance in the common room later to properly meet and congratulate the new Slytherins."

"I guess I'll go too, then."

They walked to the Great Hall together, separating only when Calista went to take a seat at the Slytherin table, and Severus continued on to the High Table.

The Slytherin table was quite full, and the only seat Calista found was by edging onto the bench among a crowd of younger students she didn't recognise; they must have been the new first years. She glanced down the table for Olivia, surprised that the other girl wasn't brainwashing the first years, turning them to her side right from the first day, like she had done the prior year.

When she spotted, Olivia, her stomach clenched uncomfortably. She was sitting among the fourth years, right next to Marcus Flint, and laughing at something he had said. She tossed her head prettily, and although Calista couldn't tell for sure if it had caught Marcus' attention, it certainly caught his friend, Derek Logan's. He was on the other side of Marcus, and he leaned forward, to catch Olivia's eye, and grinned at her, in a manner that Calista supposed was meant to be charming.

A voice at Calista's left cut through her glowering; she shifted her attention to the person it belonged to, an olive-skinned first year with wide eyes, and a tentative sort of half-smile on her face.

"Sorry, what was that?" Calista asked.

"I was asking what year you're in," the girl said.

"Third," Calista said, and then remembering that she was supposed to be helpful to the new Slytherins, added, "Uhm, welcome to Hogwarts."

"Thanks," the girl said, "I'm really excited; I've been counting down the days until my Hogwarts letter since I was five. I'm especially excited for Potions. It was my dad's best subject, and he thinks it will be mine, too. Professor Slughorn was here when my dad was a student, though. Do you think Professor Snape is any good?"

Calista smirked crookedly. "As a matter of fact, I think he's brilliant."

The younger girl smiled. "That's a relief. My mum and dad will be glad to hear it. Mum's best subject was Herbology, mind you, but she knows I've been looking forward to Potions. I'm Sofia Lima, by the way, and across from me is Alex Sykes, and Evangeline Selwyn. Eva and me have been friends since we were small, but we just met Alex on the train."

Calista glanced across the table, at Sofia's fellow first years. A pointy-faced witch with dark hair and hooded eyes nodded a greeting to Calista at being introduced, and a skinny blonde boy looked a bit like he wanted to be rescued. Another first year girl sat on his other side, though she was in conversation with a couple of what must have been the other first year boys.

"She's a third year," Sofia confided loudly to Eva and Alex, not giving Calista a chance to say a word, "She says the Potions professor is brilliant, isn't that great news? You know I was worried about it on the train, because I'd heard so much about Slughorn, and nothing about this new one - but I think my parents will be pleased, after all, once I tell them what -"

She paused, and looked at Calista curiously. "I'm sorry," she said, "What's your name? I forgot to ask."

Calista bit her bottom lip in an effort to rein in a smirk. Then, she licked her lips once, and answered in a very clear voice.

"Calista," she said, "Calista  _Snape._ " She put a mild emphasis on her surname.

Sofia's dark brown eyes went even wider. "Oh - oh, that makes me feel silly. You're related to the Potions professor, then?"

"He's my father."

Alex snickered from across the table; Calista glanced at him, prepared to be irritated, but he was clearly laughing at Sofia's expense, not hers.

"Ten minutes," the other girl, Evangeline, spoke up, rolling her eyes at Sofia. "That's how far into term it took you to get us in trouble."

"I'm sorry," Sofia said quickly, "I didn't mean - I'm sure your father is a brilliant teacher like you say, I just didn't know…"

"It's fine," Calista said, and both girls looked relieved. "Don't worry about it. You'll see for yourself that he's a good teacher, as long as you don't fool around in class."

"Oh, of course," Sofia said quickly, and Eva nodded her agreement as well.

"What happens if you fool around?" Alex asked, leaning forward.

"You don't want to find out firsthand," Calista said, deliberately injecting an ominous note into her voice, "Let's just say, a melting cauldron will be the  _least_  of your worries."

The three first years exchanged a look, and Calista stifled a smile. Well, that had proven a good distraction from her own problems. She filled her plate, suddenly realising that she was hungry.

Sofia peppered Calista with questions about the other professors, the grounds, and what felt to Calista like nearly everything else under the sun, while she ate. Normally, she supposed she would have been a bit annoyed, but at least it kept her from thinking about the conversation she'd had with her father, prevented her from obsessing over which classes she'd be forced to drop.

 _What if I have to drop Arithmancy?_  she thought wildly, during a lull in their conversation, while Alex tried to catch the attention of the other boys in his year, and Sofia and Eva both chewed their own food.  _What if that blasted Amelia bets I will, and then she wins? I'll never live it down._

"Is that the Bloody Baron?" Evangeline leaned forward to whisper to Calista.

Calista glanced up, saw the Baron patrolling the length of the Slytherin table, measuring up the new first years.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's him. He won't bother you much, unless you get on his bad side."

Sofia looked alarmed. "How does one get on his bad side?"

Calista glanced up again, made sure the Baron wasn't close enough to hear her. "Well, no one knows until it's too late, now do they?"

Sofia and Eva shivered. Calista stifled another smirk. "I wouldn't wander the corridors late at night," she added, in a sudden inspiration, deciding that if she was going to amuse herself by teasing first years, then she might as well impart some actual wisdom to them.

"A ghost can't actually hurt you, can it?" Alex asked, briefly distracted from trying to get the girl next to him to switch seats.

"That depends on your definition of 'hurt', doesn't it?" Calista replied loftily. "Can they physically touch you? No, perhaps not, but they can make you feel freezing cold, and haunt your bedroom while you try to sleep. The Baron is known for clanking his chains and moaning in the middle of the night, to frighten anyone who passes by."

All three of them looked apprehensive, and Calista felt a small twinge of guilt. "Of course, none of that is likely to happen to you, as long as you're where you're supposed to be," she added, "Ghosts are forbidden from haunting sleeping areas at any time and classrooms during the day. The only time you'll have a problem is if you're out of bed alone at night, and even then,  _believe me_ , that blasted Caretaker Flich is a hundred times worse than any ghost."

The feast ended, and all the plates were cleared. The Prefects from each House started to round up the first years, to lead them to their respective common rooms. Calista stepped aside, to let them all pass, electing to wait until the crush of younger students had passed to trace her own way to the dungeons.

When most of them had gone, she rose, and started to exit the Great Hall. Gemma Farley, a fifth year Prefect, was motioning for the last of the first years to follow her. Alex Sykes tacked himself on to the end of her group, along with what looked like two of the other first year boys. Calista followed a short distance behind them, her thoughts turning to the issue of her timetable again.

She felt someone on her heels; she turned her head, and saw that she was being trailed by Sofia and Eva.

"Uhm," Calista said, quickening her pace, "You're supposed to follow the Prefects."

"I know," Sofia said, "But I wanted to ask you something else. And we're all going the same place anyway, right?"

"I guess so," Calista said dubiously, as the younger girls matched her stride. They walked on either side of her, all the way to the common room, continuing their conversation from dinner. When they reached their destination, Calista stepped inside, wondering how she had somehow wound up with two small, chattering shadows.

When the Prefects began their start of term speech, reiterating the rules the new students would have to follow, Calista had to extricate herself from them. "I'm going to my room to get ready for bed," she told them both, "But, uhm, have a good night."

"You too," Sofia said, brightly. "We'll see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Uhm," Calista said again, "I guess so."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When Calista entered her dormitory room, she had it to herself for a few precious moments. Someone had already let Yellow out of his crate, and he was napping on Calista's pillow, curled up comfortably. He looked up when she entered, and began to purr lazily.

Calista flopped down onto her bed, and stroked the cat, who narrowed his eyes at the disruption, but settled back into a contented half-sleep when she petted him.

Then, there was a commotion at the doorway, and the other three third year Slytherin girls entered the room on a tide of dramatic giggles.

"And of course, he had nothing to say to  _that_ ," Olivia was saying, smugly.

"He definitely fancies you," Emily said, and Olivia made a delicate, derisive little snorting sound.

"Of course he fancies me," she said, "But I'm going to make him simper and beg a little before I decide how  _I_ feel, of course."

"If you don't like him, I'll take him," Portia spoke up, grinning.

"Don't be silly, Portia, Derek's not going to fall for you. You can take Marcus Flint, and those horrible teeth of his. Unless Calista wants him?"

She raised her eyebrows, and looked over at Calista, who had been hoping they would forget she existed.

"Oh," Calista said, "Are we doling out people, now?"

"Well, we have to stake out the best boys, before everyone else does," she said, "I'm torn between Derek Logan and Colin Greengrass, still."

Calista snorted, not at all as delicately as Olivia had. "Colin won't get within twenty metres of you," she said, "Not since you dosed him with that love potion, and had him acting like an idiot in front of the whole school."

"Well, I was twelve," Olivia said haughtily, "I'm a whole lot more mature now, and I'm sure Colin will see that, as well."

"Whatever you say," Calista said.

"Did you enjoy your train ride with  _Weasley_?" Olivia sniffed, as if she were asking Calista if she had enjoyed sitting next to a pile of dung on the train.

"He was a lot better company than you would have been," Calista said, "Let me guess how things might have gone in  _your_  compartment: 'Oh, Calista! I missed you this summer, let's pretend to be great friends for two weeks again, before I stab you in the back and try to get you expelled! Won't that be grand?'" she finished in an exaggeratedly high-pitched voice dripping with sarcasm.

Olivia flushed. "You're insufferable, Calista Snape."

Calista grinned. "Thank you," she said, and Olivia and Portia exchanged a bewildered glance.

"You're mental, too. That was supposed to be an insult."

"Girls," Emily interjected tiredly, "Come on, it's the first night of term. Can't we try and get off to a good start this year?"

"I am on good terms," Calista said, "She's the one throwing names around."

" _She's_  the one who started it," Olivia said frigidly, and although she was talking to Emily, it was clear that her displeasure was aimed at Calista. "I've only tried to be nice, saving her a seat on the train and everything, and she has to go and bring up -"

"The fact that you tried to get me expelled last year," Calista snarled, interrupting her, "Isn't that what you were about to say?"

"You have  _no idea_  what I went through, when you ran to your father and tattled on me," Olivia hissed, through clenched teeth, "Do you even know what he wrote home to my mother? She threatened to send me to a horrible, pathetic little all-girls school in the middle of nowhere."

"And maybe if you'd gone there, you wouldn't be trying to hand out all the Slytherin boys like they're Cauldron Cakes," Calista snarked.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you are such a  _child_  sometimes, Calista. I don't have the patience for this anymore. Forget I ever tried to talk to you."

"Gladly," Calista said, laying down on her bed with finality, and turning her back to the other girls. Yellow hissed at her, and leapt off the bed.

Olivia, Portia, and Emily nattered on amongst themselves for a few more minutes, before all of them went to bed, and someone turned out the lamps in the room.

"Goodnight, everyone," Emily said softly into the darkness, but no one answered her.

"By the way," came Olivia's voice when Calista had nearly fallen asleep, "I like your new robes, Calista."

Calista pretended to be asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, everyone's timetables were on the floor, having evidently been slipped underneath their door while they slept. Since the second day of term that year happened to be a Saturday, most of the students were taking the opportunity to sleep in. Calista woke first, knowing she likely had Occlumency lessons with her father. She walked quietly to the door and picked her own timetable from the stack before Portia or Olivia could get their hands on it.

She scanned it carefully; it was quite full. On Mondays, she had Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Astronomy at midnight. Then, on Tuesdays, she was scheduled for Remedial Transfiguration early in the mornings, where she suspected everyone else had a period off to recover from the late night class the prior day. After that, she had History of Magic, and a block set aside in the evening to study Transfiguration with a peer tutor. Wednesdays, she had Potions in the morning, a double session with the Gryffindors again, and Study of Ancient Runes in the afternoon. She felt her heart settle a little when she saw that she still had that particular class scheduled, and she hadn't even known it had been racing until then. Thursdays, she was scheduled for third-year Transfiguration and Arithmancy, which was a double session as well. On Fridays, she had Care of Magical Creatures, which lasted for the morning, and Charms in the afternoon. There was an additional notation on her timetable, which stated that she had Flying lessons after this, for at least the first six weeks of term. Calista knew that the lessons would go on longer, if Madam Hooch thought she hadn't learned enough.

She had a lesson on Saturday mornings, again, which was listed on her timetable only as "Elective Studies - Prof. Severus Snape". She wondered, as she had last year, if this was her father's idea of a joke. 'Elective' studies on a Saturday morning? Hardly.

But as she looked over her timetable again, and again, she realised that all of the classes she wanted were there. The only thing missing were her extra Potions lessons, which she normally would have had directly following her regular Potions class. It looked like her father had done as he had promised, and let her off those lessons so she could take Ancient Runes.

Then she noticed a notation in the bottom corner of her schedule. It said "Provisional Timetable - Please see Professor McGonagall before twelve noon on Saturday, 2 September." She checked the clock on Emily's bedside table; it was just before 8:00 am. She had Occlumency lessons from nine until noon, so she supposed she had just enough time to eat a quick breakfast before she went to find Professor McGonagall.

She felt her stomach knot; she knew what the meeting was about. McGonagall wanted test her, to make sure she was able to Transfigure something. If she wasn't she'd be put back in first year Transfiguration. Not only would that be mortifying, but Calista didn't know which block the first years had this year, and it was quite likely that it occurred during another of her classes. If she couldn't convince McGonagall that she'd be able to catch up to a third year level sometimes this year, she might very well have to drop one or more of her classes anyway, despite all the finagling her father had evidently managed to do.

She went to the Great Hall, even though she felt too nervous to eat now, and was immediately sorry she had done so. Not only was Professor McGonagall sitting at the High Table, but Sofia and Evangeline, the first year girls who had attached themselves to Calista the prior evening, were sitting at the Slytherin table, and they both looked up when she entered. Sofia smiled brightly, and waved Calista over to them.

She glanced around the rest of the table. Not many other students were out of bed yet, and of the ones that were, she didn't know any of them very well. She had no choice but to sit with the first years, unless she wanted to be deliberately rude - which wasn't out of the question, certainly - but then she felt that familiar twinge of guilt, when she glanced over at the Gryffindor table, and saw Percy helpfully chattering at a group of first years.

"Good morning," she managed to say, as she sat down next to them, and reached for some toast.

"Good morning, Calista!" Sofia said, "I couldn't sleep this morning, I was so excited to get up and walk around the castle. Eva and I were going to try exploring after breakfast, but Gemma - she's one of the Prefects -"

"I know who Gemma is," Calista said, suddenly tired. How did this girl find so many  _words_  to use in the morning?

"Right, of course you do," Sofia continued, oblivious to Calista's weariness, "She said first years shouldn't go wandering by themselves, and then I remembered what you'd said about the Bloody Baron, and I thought maybe she was right, so I've been terribly disappointed since then - but now  _you're_  here, so we were thinking, Eva and I-"

She nudged Evangeline, who smiled at Calista, looking nearly as tired as Calista suddenly felt, "That maybe  _you_  could show us around."

"Oh," Calista said, and suddenly, three hours of Occlumency lessons didn't seem like such a terrible thing to have to do on a Saturday morning, after all, "I'm sorry, I can't. I have lessons on Saturdays. Elective studies." She smirked to herself. She couldn't even  _say_  that with a straight face.

Sofia's face fell, and Evangeline looked a bit sad, too.

From across the room, she heard Percy laughing heartily. She glanced up. He was still talking to the first years, gesturing grandly.

"Maybe in the afternoon, though," Calista said, and then wondered why those words had spilled out of her mouth.

"Really?" Both girls perked up visibly. "That would be brilliant. Shall we meet you here, at lunch time, then?"

"Uhm," Calista said, wishing she had just kept her mouth shut, and wondering why she hadn't. "Yeah, all right."

She glanced up at the High Table again; Professor McGonagall was rising, and stepping away from the table. Calista supposed she might as well get this over with. She swallowed one last mouthful of toast, then brushed any crumbs away from her mouth, and got up to follow the professor.

"Good morning, Miss Snape," McGonagall said, when she drew near. "I presume you were on your way to see me?"

Calista nodded. "I guess so. I have lessons after this, and the note said I had to see you before noon, so…"

"We'll meet in my office," she said, 'I don't expect it to take very long. Professor Snape told me that you've improved over the summer, and that he believes the issue you were having before is resolved. I just need to verify that, and then your timetable will become official, and you can be on your way."

She followed the professor to her office, and pulled the door closed behind her when they arrived. There was no need to let anyone who might be passing by witness her humiliation.

Professor McGonagall placed a match on her desk, and Calista felt relieved. This, she was fairly certain she could do. She drew her wand from her pocket, and waved it at the match, murmuring the incantation.

Nothing happened.

"Hang on," Calista said hurriedly, "I forgot something…"

_Come on, you useless piece of crud. Turn into a needle, a nice, sharp needle. Don't forget the eye._

She waved her wand again, cast the spell.

A perfect sewing needle rattled delicately against the surface of the desk as it landed.

"Excellent work," Professor McGonagall said, "I can see that your father was correct, when he told me you had improved. Shall we try this one again?"

Calista's stomach had started to unclench, but it went right back when McGonagall withdrew a pencil from her desk, and placed it on top.

Calista  _hated_  this spell, and even though she had gotten it to work quite a few times over the summer, there had also been plenty of times when the transformation had failed.

"Right," she said, and she cast the spell, silently willing the pencil to change.

_Grow longer, flatten out, you stupid thing, and don't forget to lose your rubber. Oh, and measurement marks, be sure you have those._

The pencil rattled, and slowly began to shift. She could tell right off that something had gone wrong; the transition was always slower when it was going to be incomplete.

"No, that's not right," she said, "Let me try again."

Professor McGonagall returned the pencil to its original form, and Calista tried again concentrating harder. Twice more, the transformation was incomplete, but she didn't want to give up until the professor had seen her do it, just in case this was the difference between going back to first year and not.

The fourth time, the spell worked, and a ruler clattered down onto the professor's desk.

She looked up, afraid of what she would read on her teacher's face, that perhaps she hadn't done well enough, that she'd be going back to first year, after all.

"Well, I'd say that's a marked improvement," McGonagall said, "And I can see that you are committed to improving further. I'm prepared to allow you to stay in my third year class, as long as you continue to improve in remedial lessons."

"Thank you," Calista said, releasing a breath that she hadn't realised she was holding. "I'll make sure I catch up quickly."

"Well, it isn't always wise to rush these things," Professor McGonagall cautioned, "I think it's best that you continue to learn the way you have been, by practising one spell at a time until you can get it to consistently work correctly. We'll discuss this more in your remedial lesson. Speaking of which," she added, a note of concern entering her voice, "I had originally scheduled the remedial class on Friday mornings, but Professor Snape asked me if I might be able to move it. I'm afraid the only place I could possibly move it to was Tuesday morning, which I'd avoided because of your Astronomy class the night before. Are you certain you will be alert enough, after your long day Monday? I don't need to remind you that Transfiguration can be very dangerous if the caster is not sufficiently focused."

"I know," Calista said, earnestly. "And I will be alert enough, I promise. It's the only way I could fit all the classes I wanted."

"Very well," she said, "See that you are. Now, I believe you have a lesson to attend?"

Calista nodded, and took her leave. She couldn't quite stop a smile from spreading across her face as she left the office. She was still far behind, that was true, but she had done well enough to keep her timetable the way it was, and she wouldn't have to drop any classes, after all.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When Calista slipped into Severus' office a few minutes past nine, he knew she must have gone to see Minerva before coming for her lesson.

"Did it go well?" he asked her, though he knew it must have, because there was nothing in her features to suggest otherwise.

She didn't seem surprised that he'd guessed where she was. "I got the needle nearly right away," she said, "And the ruler, after a few tries. She said I can keep my timetable."

"I'm glad."

"Thanks," she said, "For… you know, for figuring out a way for me to take all my classes."

He nodded. "Don't make me regret cancelling your extra Potions lessons - you are not, under any circumstances, to brew even a single potion outside of my classroom, no matter how compelling your, or your friends', reasons may seem."

Calista rolled her eyes. "I  _know_ , Dad."

"Well, less than a year ago, you didn't, so you can see why I'm concerned."

She looked like she had another response ready, but she wisely kept her mouth closed.

"As that's settled," he said, "Let's have your Occlumency lesson in my quarters. I've had breakfast sent down, and I suspect you were too nervous to eat much before you came here?"

"I had some toast," she said. How did he know?

"Well, you can eat something else, then. It will give us an opportunity to further test your skills in maintaining a barrier while you're concentrating on something else."

"Gee, that sounds just lovely," she said, sarcastically, but followed him into his quarters anyway. Feeling that she had, in fact, recovered her appetite, she helped herself to a variety of things from the little kitchen table.

She was only on her second bite when she felt him brush against her barriers. He always did this first, testing them before trying to push through.

Except, this time, he didn't; she felt his mind pushing against hers, and she hastily concentrated on strengthening her first barrier.

"You've stopped eating," he reminded her, and she scowled and went for a slice of bacon. It was something she was still having some trouble with, holding him back while engaged in some other activity.

What Severus suspected Calista didn't know was that he had been steadily increasing the strength of his own infiltrations, for months now. She struggled some, especially in instances like this where her attention was divided, but she had been answering his incrementally stronger attacks with a very nearly equal increase in defensive strength.

He pushed past her first barrier, ignored the eddying swirl of thoughts beneath it for now. It was enough for him to see that she had contained a large number of memories between her first two barriers, and to feel that there were emotions connected to them. He was wary, after their disagreement at the end of the school year, to examine her thoughts too closely, in case she saw it as an unwelcome intrusion.

Instead, he waded through the memories, found the second barrier. It was every bit as strong as the first one, and he kept his eyes on her as he pushed through it. She paused for a few seconds, as he felt her try mount her defences, but then continued to chew the mouthful of food that she had.

He reached for the third and final barrier, saw her physically tense as he began to push through it. "You're showing me your distress," he said quietly, and she relaxed her shoulders, concentrated on keeping her face blank. "Better," he murmured.

He could feel her gathering the last reserves of her strength to supplement the third barrier, and as he tried to push through, she pushed back. Then, suddenly, he could feel the first two barriers, the ones he had already passed through, begin to dissolve behind him, and her third barrier strengthened considerably, as she redirected the mental resources she had used to erect them. It was a tactic that he had not really seen her use before, at least not effectively - she had, once or twice, attempted it, but that was back when it took her much longer to create or add to a barrier, and he had broken through before she'd managed to strengthen her defences.

This time, he saw the process happen in a matter of seconds, and although he could have forced himself through the final barrier in that time, if he increased his attack, he was curious to see how well this tactic would work for her, now, so he continued trying to push through at the same strength he had been.

Rapidly, threads unravelled from the first two barriers, and wove themselves into the structure of her innermost barrier. When he pushed against it, it was quite strong. He examined the length of the wall, feeling for weak spots, places where she might have forgotten to bolster it. There were a few patches that were a bit thinner, easier to break through than the main structure of the wall, but he wanted to know how strong the main barrier was, so he elected to force his way through, rather than try and slip cunningly through one of the weaker spots.

He found that he could not break through without increasing the mental effort he was expending; he poured more of his own resources into the onslaught, and managed, at last, to break through with a considerable effort. He judged himself to be operating at nearly half his potential strength when he finally pushed through it.

In front of him, Calista had abandoned all pretense of eating or doing anything; her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and it was blindingly obvious that she was fighting off an attack; but Severus thought it almost didn't matter, in that instant.

Once he had broken through, he withdrew. Calista opened her eyes, and let out a breath. "Sorry," she said, realising she had not been attempting to do anything but block him, "I forgot to keep eating."

"That was the best you've ever done," he told her, quietly.

"It was?"

"By a considerable amount," he said, "I'm not given to empty praise, Calista. Your third barrier, once you reinforced it from the reserves of the other two, was quite strong."

Her face lit up. "I thought… I thought I could do it fast enough, add to it, so I decided to try. Of course, you still broke through it nearly as quickly as always…"

"I did," he told her, "But not without using more strength against you than I ever have before."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Now, let's see if you can do it again," he said, "Don't worry about trying to keep occupied, just try your hardest to keep me out."

She nodded, and he allowed her a few seconds to clear her mind, before he pushed at the outermost of her mental walls. He increased his strength this time, making it more than he had begun with on the prior attempt, but still considerably less than what he had ultimately used to breach her final barrier.

He passed through the first one quickly, but this time, as soon as he had done so and was reaching towards the next barrier, he felt the first one dissolve behind him. He pushed through the second one, and that one promptly dissolved as well, in his wake.

Once again, Calista had closed her eyes, was concentrating fully on his presence in her mind.

When he reached the third barrier, she was still feeding some of the strength from the other two in. This time, he didn't give her precious seconds to finish reinforcing it, but just pushed through. She couldn't seem to continue increasing the strength of the third barrier while it was directly under attack, but she redirected that energy into pushing, forcefully, against his intrusion. He increased his strength marginally, and sidestepped this defensive force, attacking the wall directly again. He slipped through, easier than he had the time before.

He withdrew, and she opened her eyes again. Her face was pale with the effort of trying to repel him from her mind.

"That was more difficult, wasn't it?" he prompted.

She nodded, and rubbed her temples.

"Why do you think that is?"

"Were you using more strength?"

"No," he said, "Not at the end. I didn't need to, this time. Do you know why?"

She frowned. She knew by now that she was expected to try to answer the question on her own, before he would tell her.

"I couldn't quite strengthen my last defence before you were there," she said, "But I tried to push you back, and it didn't really work."

"Your mind has only a finite well of resources," he told her, "So it stands to reason that you used the same amount of strength on both attempts, and yet one was more effective than the other. Can you figure out why?"

"Well, the wall," she said, "It seems to work better than just trying to force you back."

"Precisely," he said, "And the reason for that is the nature of what you're trying to do. A barrier, an arrangement of memories in a particular way, an intentional clouding of one or more thoughts, those are all things that fall under the description of occlumency. However, when you attempt to take  _action_ , to… to create an entity of sorts, from your thoughts, what do you suppose that is?"

She pushed her hair behind her ears; the new haircut that Narcissa had taken her for made it so that the shorter pieces were constantly falling forward, into her face. "Well, obviously, it's not occlumency, or you wouldn't have framed the question like that," she said. "Is it… is that part of legilimency, then?"

"It is."

"So that's less effective as a protection, then?"

"For  _you_  it is, because you are not properly trained in the art. If you were, then perhaps it would have worked better. One who was truly mastered both legilimency and occlumency achieves best results by using the disciplines side-by-side, but you're not nearly there, yet."

"Then I should have just kept trying to make the wall stronger?"

He nodded. "Or, barring that, build another one behind it. Even if it is weaker, it's still preferable to wasting those potential resources by applying them in a manner that won't help you."

"Can you teach me more legilimency, too?"

"I'll tell you what. When you can consistently guard your mind with the strength you did a few moments ago, even while occupied with other tasks, then I will begin teaching you legilimency, as well. We'll divide your lessons into two parts, when that happens."

She nodded, and he could see determination light her eyes. He'd estimated, this time last year, that she would need another two or three years to reach the strength she'd just displayed. He supposed it was possible that freeing up the tangled thread in her mind had allowed her to become a strong occlumens, but he didn't think that was the reason she was progressing so rapidly - he thought it was sheer stubbornness, and her own pride.

He supposed he might have encouraged those two character traits in her, when he had pushed her, in each and every lesson, as far as he thought she could, and had expected her to meet his challenge with her best efforts, every time. And for the most part, she always did - today was only the best example of that, but certainly not the first.

"Okay. I'm ready to try again," she said, exhaling and squaring her shoulders.

He tested her again, moving quickly through her first barrier; he was using a fair amount of his own strength, to see how quickly she could work when pushed. The first barrier dissolved behind him as he attacked the second. When he pushed through that one, it began to recede nearly as soon as he had done so. He stretched his mind out towards her third barrier, knowing that she was still trying to strengthen it. He had been impressed by her attempts today, but as always, that only meant that he pushed her just a bit further, and so this time he allowed her no pause to finish adding resources from the first two barriers into the third.

And then, there was a heavy, pulsing anger, a tidal wave of fierce emotion, streaming around him. Instinctively, for a second, he latched onto it - but when he did he found that it was attached to no particular memory. As a distraction, it wasn't very good, because it kept him occupied for only the couple of seconds it took to realise it was precisely that. As it turned out, though, a couple of seconds was enough for Calista to finish redirecting the resources from her first two barriers into the fabric of the third. When he pushed against the barrier, it was solid, strong, much as it had been on her first attempt today.

This time, instead of forcing his way through, he searched along the wall for weak spots. He found a place that was thinner, less defined than the rest of the barrier, and slipped through it. Once he had gotten through, he reached a tendril of his thoughts out, drew her attention to she spot he had gotten through, and a few more like it.

_The strength of the barrier doesn't matter if it's not consistent,_  he reminded her.

In response, she tried to redirect some of her mental resources to filling the gaps, evening out the strength of the wall, but this was far more nuanced than simply erecting the barrier in the first place, and it took her longer.

They tried a few more times, but by the fifth go, Calista's strength was drained; all three of her walls were significantly weaker, and she couldn't reinforce the third one quick enough. It was nearly noon at that point, so he released her from the lesson.

"We'll practise again next week," he said, "Try and think of how you might prevent weakness from occurring in your defences."

"If I knew how, obviously I would have done it," she said, defensively, rising from her chair.

Severus waved his wand, and cleared the remains of their now-abandoned breakfast away. Then he stood as well, and reached for his daughter, landed one hand on her shoulder, and put the other to the side of her face, locking eyes with her.

"Calista," he said, with rare sincerity, "I'm only asking you to think about it. I don't want you to think I'm disappointed. You made excellent progress today, and I'm proud of you."

She dropped her gaze, but he could see a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Thanks," she said softly. He could hear the note of pride in her voice, the one he wanted her to have, and he smiled too, and stepped back, letting go of her.

"I'm going to be brewing a few things for the hospital wing this afternoon. Would you like to join me?"

She frowned. "I… actually, I really would," she said, "But I sort of promised a couple of first years that I'd show them around the castle after lunch."

Severus blinked, and furrowed his brow. "You did?"

His daughter was full of surprises today. Pleasant ones, actually. This school year was off to a much better start than the last one, that was for certain.

"Yeah. I don't know why, really. They asked me, and I just…" she shrugged. "Agreed, I guess."

"Well," he said wryly, "It's awfully  _helpful_  of you, so you can see why I'm surprised, but I think it's a good thing. I'm pleased you're doing it."

She nodded, encouraged. "Right, I guess I'll go meet them, then."

He smirked. "When you show them my classroom," he said, "Remind them how much I  _detest_  tardiness, will you?"

She grinned. "I may have already scared them off you a bit," she said, "I told them they didn't even want to  _know_ what would happen if they were goofing off in your class."

"Good. Let's hope they remember it."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Showing the first years around hadn't been as bad as she'd anticipated, actually. Sofia was very talkative, but at least she was friendly, and she seemed, for some inexplicable reason, to regard Calista as something of an authority. It reminded her a bit of being with her cousin Draco, actually, except Sofia had also wanted to know where she had gotten her robes made. Calista had shrugged off that question, embarrassed, but she'd answered the rest of the girls' questions as best she could.

It turned out Evangeline, or Eva, as she liked to be called, was inquisitive too, though she was quieter about it, preferring to glean as much as she could through observing before she asked for more information. When they were in the library - and Madam Pince, for one, did not seem to approve of Sofia's litany of chatter - Eva had glanced sharply at the Restricted section, and asked Calista how one got permission to go in  _there_.

Professor Flitwick's office door had been open, and when they'd walked by, Calista pointing out the Charms classroom next door to Sofia and Eva, the tiny professor had come out to greet them.

"Hello, hello," he had said cheerfully, "Welcome back to another school year. Excellent results on your exam last year, Miss Snape, congratulations again." He lowered his voice. "You know, I'd thought to ask you if you had any interest in being a peer tutor this year, for remedial students, but the Headmaster tells me your timetable is already full. Tell me, at least, that you are taking up The Study of Ancient Runes?"

"Uhm" Calista said, glancing at the first years, who had retreated behind her a bit, and feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. "Yes. I'm taking it."

"Ah, excellent," he said, in his squeaky voice, "I think it will deepen your understanding of Charms a good deal. I always recommend it to my students, particularly those that show a lot of promise."

"Thanks, Professor," she said, and then hastily, "Uhm, these are some new Slytherins, Evangeline Selwyn and Sofia… Sofia…" she had forgotten Sofia's surname, but Sofia stepped forward boldly.

"Sofia Lima," she said, "And you're Professor Flitwick, of course. My father was in your N.E.W.T. class, when he was at Hogwarts."

"Eduardo Lima," Flitwick said, "I remember him. Very gifted with a Summoning Charm, as I recall."

Sofia glowed, more than Calista had at being complimented herself.

"Well, allow me to welcome both of you to Hogwarts," he said, "I hope you're getting acclimated." He shifted his attention to Calista again, briefly. "It's good to see one of our older students taking the time to familiarise new students with the castle," he said, and then, "I'll let you carry on. Do let me know if you find yourself with a free time slot and an appetite for tutoring, yes?"

Calista nodded. "I think I'd like to, if I can make time for it. I guess… uhm, probably I would have time if I finished my… er, extra lessons with Professor McGonagall."

"Excellent, just keep me informed. Good afternoon, then. I look forward to seeing all of you in class this year."

When they had gotten out of earshot of Flitwick's office, Eva had smiled slyly at Calista. "A lot of the professors like you, then?"

Calista felt her blush return. "Hardly. I mean, Professor Flitwick does  _now_ , but I got our whole class assigned extra homework on my first day, by mouthing off. I've had more than my fair share of detentions, too, but…" she shrugged. "I… one of my friends has been encouraging me to be… well, to be less of a prat, and I'm trying."

Sofia turned her smile on again. "Well," she said, "You don't seem like much of a prat to me."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

With the new year came a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, a stern, middle-aged woman called Professor Mulhorn. She had sandy blond hair, a sturdy, taller than average frame, and a no-nonsense attitude that Calista actually sort of admired. At any rate, she was glad to see young, attractive Professor Foran go, if only to stop the girls in her class from fawning ridiculously over him for half the lesson. They were to be studying Dark creatures this year, which Calista supposed might possibly overlap with Care of Magical Creatures, and should at least be interesting. She wondered if they would get to actually try fighting some off.

Herbology class was different, now that she had a fledgling of an alliance with Penelope and Amelia. It would have been nice to get through Herbology class without shooting glares across the greenhouse at someone, but unfortunately, Olivia had decided to fill in for Amelia on this front. Calista hadn't been able to bite back a grin when Amelia had asked, loudly, if there was something wrong with Olivia's face, the way she kept narrowing her eyes and scrunching her mouth up.

She hadn't been able to escape Olivia in Astronomy, though. Under cover of night, the blonde girl sidled close to her.

"I suppose you think you're so  _special_  now, with your new robes, and all your new little friends," Olivia had whispered, snidely.

"Go away," Calista had replied, "I'm trying to see Mars, and your fat head is getting in my way."

"What do you think you're playing at, anyway?" Olivia pushed, "Hanging around with Mudbloods like that Slater girl, and that Muggle-loving  _Weasley_?"

Calista knew the question was meant to anger her, but she didn't want to let it, didn't want to invest that much emotion in someone she knew wasn't worth it. If this past Saturday had taught her anything, it was that she didn't need Olivia, had been right to separate herself from her toxic housemate. She felt, for the first time, that she could make her own way at Hogwarts. And, for the first time, she felt like she knew how to make friends that would like her for who she really was, not for who they  _wanted_  her to be.

"I guess that must mean I have a  _really_  low opinion of you," Calista whispered back, calmly, "If I think they're better company."

"It means you're an idiot," Olivia snarled, in Calista's ear. Professor Sinistra was not far away, helping George Spratt align his telescope properly. "You don't know what you threw away. My mother is a very influential person in the Ministry, you know."

Calista snorted, and Professor Sinistra glanced over at them. There was a moment of blessed silence, before the teacher strode away to help another boy in their class, and Olivia leaned towards Calista again.

"How long do you think the rest of Slytherin House is going to let you get away with hanging around with a bunch of scum?" she hissed, "I'm not going to be there for you when they turn you out for spending all your time with a smarmy little  _Gryffindor_."

"I expect I'll  _get away with_  hanging around whoever I want," Calista said testily, "As my dad is Head of House. Or did you forget that? Should I tell him what you called Amelia?"

"I called her what she is," Olivia said, "And you'd do well to remember it. My mother's going to be very concerned, when I tell her the sort of company you're keeping, these days…"

"Did I miss something? Like the day I started to care what your  _mother_  thinks of me?"

"She-" Olivia began, but Calista cut her off, not caring that her voice was rising above a whisper.

"Anyway, what kind of  _adult_  woman even cares about who some schoolmate of her daughter's is  _hanging around with_ , anyway? Doesn't that sound just a bit creepy to you?"

She'd thought this would shut Olivia up, and there was a moment of silence while Professor Sinistra strutted by, and shushed them with her finger to her lips.

"Constellations, young ladies, find them and cease your chatter." the teacher said, a note of irritation creeping into her deep voice.

When the coast was clear again, Olivia leaned in, a sinister little smile playing about her lips.

"I wonder," she whispered, right by Calista's ear again, so there was no way she could miss it, "What  _your_  mother would think."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista rolled out of bed groggily on Tuesday morning. She knew she had to get to remedial Transfiguration, because if she didn't, she'd prove to McGonagall and her father that she  _couldn't_  handle such a heavy course load, and she knew they'd make her drop something she really wanted to take.

Well, she was dead tired, and certainly not very alert, but perhaps a shower would fix that. At any rate, she didn't think she could possibly eat anything, so she might as well use the few minutes she had to spare for  _something_  useful.

She hadn't been able to get much sleep, and she'd felt nauseous ever since Olivia's comment in Astronomy the night before. She'd been too afraid to ask her what she meant by it, tried to keep her face blank, disinterested, so Olivia wouldn't see how much it had unnerved her. She must have just been grasping at straws, Calista hoped fervently, and had happened to hit upon that. Calista had never told  _anyone_  at school who her mother was, so how could Olivia really know?

As far as she knew, the only ones who did know were her father and Professor Dumbledore, and she certainly didn't think either one of them had told Olivia. But she remembered, and this was the part that had made her feel sick, something she had said to Olivia back in first year, in an uncontrolled fury.  _My mother's not a Muggle. She's not even dead. She's in Azkaban, for torturing a couple of Aurors until they completely lost it. Don't worry, though - her blood is probably purer than yours._

It had been an incredibly stupid thing to say, she now realised, something she'd never say now, and wished she could take back. But was it enough information for Olivia to somehow find out precisely who her mother was? She didn't know, really, how many female Azkaban had, or how many of them had been imprisoned for similar crimes to those her mother had committed, but surely, her mother couldn't be the only one? Calista didn't even know how to find out, so how had Olivia done it?

Unless she hadn't, really. Calista supposed it was possible that Olivia hadn't believed her outburst, that she still thought Calista's mother was dead. Maybe Olivia's mention of her had only been meant to make Calista sad over her supposedly dead mother. It was possible, wasn't it?

There was something though, about the pointed way she had asked the question, about the smug look on her face when she did, that made Calista fear otherwise. And this, the knowledge of who her mother was - it was not a weapon that Calista wanted Olivia to have for use against her.

Plagued by these thoughts, she half-heartedly ran a comb through her hair, charmed it dry, and dressed quickly in a set of her new robes, before grabbing her textbook and walking quickly to the Transfiguration classroom.

It looked like Marcus was indeed in the same remedial lessons as her, because he was already sitting at one of the tables, book open. At another table was a girl Calista knew only by sight, a Hufflepuff second year named Emma or Ellen, or something like that.

Calista crossed the room, and sat down at an empty table. Ordinarily, she'd probably have joined Marcus, but today, she was tired and preoccupied, and she was afraid she'd snap at him unfairly if she sat by him.

Professor McGonagall strode in right after she had sat down, and directed each of them to open their books to the spell they were stuck on currently. For Marcus, it was badgering. For the Hufflepuff girl, it was  _Avifors_ , the spell that Percy had once professed to having a bit of trouble grasping at first.

For Calista, it was  _still_  the pencil into ruler transformation; she bit back a heavy sigh as Professor McGonagall set a pencil in front of her for her to practise with. She  _hated_ this spell, and by extension, she found that she now felt irritation well up in her whenever she saw a pencil  _or_  a ruler.

She saw the Hufflepuff girl crane her neck to see which spell Marcus was on, and then turn to see which spell Calista was. Calista couldn't help but scowl when she saw relief flood the Hufflepuff girl's face, when she realised she wasn't the furthest behind.

She glared at her pencil, willed it to turn into a ruler, and of course, it did not obey. Worse still, she couldn't get it to go back, either. She felt her face heat up as Professor McGonagall came over to her, and reset the pencil.

"Clear your mind, Miss Snape," the professor said, and she said something else too, some instruction on precisely how to wave her wand, but Calista didn't hear her.

_Clear your mind_ , she repeated to herself, and once the professor had said it, it seemed blindingly obvious. Of course; it was something Calista practised three hours a week at, something her father had just told her she was becoming quite good at. She nodded distractedly at her professor, and then she concentrated on the contents of her own mind.

She gathered her fears about Olivia discovering her mother's identity, fears of her mother herself, frustration at still being stuck on this wretched spell, and even her apprehension about being in this remedial class, not catching up to her own grade level on time, and she swept it all behind the second barrier in her mind. She cleared, as well, her plans for the rest of the day, the star chart she needed to draw up for Astronomy, the conversation she had had the other day with Professor Flitwick about tutoring. All of it, all the minutiae of her day-to-day life, and her fears, greatest to smallest, she forced out of the outermost portion of her mind, crammed it behind her second mental wall.

When she had succeeded in emptying, as well she could, the first layer of her mind, she allowed it to fill again with one thing, and one thing only: the image of a perfect wooden ruler, with a rich wood grain, and sharp, black little numbers painted on it, measurement marks set at precisely the correct distances. She pictured it so well that she thought she could almost  _feel_  the woodgrain under her fingertips.

She waved her wand, cast the spell. For safe measure, she added a thought:  _Change, stupid, into a perfect wooden ruler, just like the one I'm picturing._

There was a clattering sound as the subject of her incantation landed on her desk. It was just as she had pictured it, a perfect, brand-new ruler.

"Ah, that's it, Miss Snape. Let's see if you can do it again." Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and turned the ruler back into a pencil.

She brushed aside a few errant thoughts that had seeped back in, underneath her barrier; she found that now that she had grown accustomed to dividing her thoughts in certain ways into certain layers of her mind, it was quite difficult to redirect them; they always seemed to want to bounce back to where they had come from.

In the few seconds while the forefront of her mind was blissfully clear, she cast the spell again. Again, she pictured the ruler in minute detail, directed the pencil to change, insulted it just in case that really was part of the spell, for her.

Again came the satisfying clatter of a ruler hitting the surface of her desk.

"See if you can change it back yourself, now."

Again, with considerable effort, she pushed her mundane, everyday thoughts, her surface concerns and fear, behind her second barrier, allowed the first layer of her mind to house virtually nothing but an image: this time, of a newly-sharpened, bright yellow-painted pencil, with a perfect pink rubber.

_All right, you git, change yourself back, into a nice, pointy pencil, just like the one I'm imagining._

A lighter clatter, and then a pencil began to roll across her desk towards her. She blinked, surprised, as her thoughts began to filter back into the main part of her consciousness, the first layer of her mind. She had done it, she had managed the transformation twice in a row, and even reversed it perfectly.

Professor McGonagall had had her practise the spell, back and forth, for the remainder of the lesson, to be sure she had it.

Ten, twelve, fifteen more times, Calista got the spell to work, in both directions. It had not come without cost, though; she was exhausted. Clearing her mind, while on the surface appearing to be a stroke of genius, was in fact an awful lot like an Occlumency lesson. She didn't know if this was even what the professor had meant, or why it did not appear to be a  _necessary_  step for her to complete the spell, but only an exceedingly helpful one. Still, she thought it didn't matter. She'd leave each lesson shaking with fatigue if she had to, as long as she managed to catch up to the rest of her class soon enough to avoid being held back a year or more.

Partway through the class, Marcus had tried to catch her eye, offering a grin of encouragement, but she had been too focused on clearing her mind, on picturing, by turns, the ideal ruler and the perfect pencil, to pay him any mind. She'd meant to try and catch up with him after class, but Professor McGonagall had called out to her, as she prepared to follow him.

"Miss Snape, a quick word, please."

Calista felt her heart speed up; somehow, whenever McGonagall wanted to speak with her, she felt as if she was about to be in trouble. She wondered if this was how other students felt about her father, and realised that it probably was, at least for poor students like Oliver Wood and Portia MacNair.

She approached the professor, who was sitting at her desk with a short list of names in front of her.

"I take it you haven't forgotten about the peer tutor requirement we set out at the end of last year, for you to remain in my third year class?"

"I remember. I was thinking maybe I could study with Marcus."

"Ah, well, the point, Miss Snape, is to learn from one of your peers who has demonstrated a thorough understanding of the material you're struggling with, and that makes it inadvisable for you to work with another remedial student, though of course you are free to study with Mr. Flint in addition to the peer tutor requirement. I have a list of students whom I have approved to tutor other students in the same year or below. Gerald Boot, perhaps, in Ravenclaw, or --"

"Not him," Calista interjected, quickly, recalling what Marcus had said about him.

Professor McGonagall glanced down at the list, as if to confirm something, and then looked back up at Calista.

"If you wish to work with a fellow Slytherin, I can arrange for you to study with Miss Avril. She is a friend of yours, I believe?"

"Not… not really, Professor. I'd rather… is Percy on your list?"

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Percy Weasley?"

Calista nodded. "I'd rather work with him than with Olivia, if that's okay."

"Well," Professor McGonagall shifted in her seat, looking both surprised and somewhat pleased. "Mr. Weasley is indeed on my list of approved tutors, so as long as he is amenable, you may study with him. I'll have to give you both a pass to be in the library after hours, since you're in different houses and can't use the common room. Come to my office after your classes are finished for the day."

"I will."

She left, and though she had time to eat lunch before History of Magic, she was afraid of running into Olivia in the Great Hall, so she decided to skip lunch. She remembered that her father had told her last year that she was welcome to hide in his office, if she needed time alone, so she headed there instead. She rather hoped he'd be there, but when she drew close to the Potions classroom, she could hear him lecturing on Sleeping Draughts. She thought she could rather use one, herself, as she slipped quietly into his office.

Immediately, she felt marginally calmer. She sat down in the chair across from his desk, and opened her Transfiguration book, attempting to read it until it was time to get her things for her next class. She couldn't quite keep Olivia's voice from echoing in her mind, so exhausted was she from clearing her mind repeatedly to complete her transfiguration properly, and so she sat there, in the room where her father had helped her solve so many dilemmas, and tried to imagine that she was talking to him now.

_I think Olivia's figured out who my mother is_ , she would say.

She knew that he would probably ask her a question in reply, something that would require her to think, and find the answer she needed herself. Something like,  _In what way does that change things?_  or  _How do you think she might try to use that against you?_ , or perhaps  _How long did you think to keep it secret?_

None of those things were particularly helpful in allaying her fears right now, though, so she decided to imagine him saying something else entirely.

_That sodding cow_ , she imagined him saying, as he looked up from marking a stack of essays. Calista's was on the top, and had already been given top marks. That bit of her fantasy, she knew, was the only piece likely to come true.  _I'll give her detention sorting reptile innards for six hours a day, every day, until she decides to quit Hogwarts forever. And, I think, to soothe your nerves, you should have another pet cat, to keep the one you have company while you're in class._

Calista smirked to herself. She actually did feel a little bit better. She gathered her things, and prepared to leave his office. And then, on a sudden whim, she tore off a small square of parchment from the roll she kept in her school bag, took out her quill, and sketched a quick picture of a cat. She went over to her father's desk, opened the drawer where he kept his marking quills, and set her little picture on top of them, where he'd be sure to see it later.


	3. Chapter 3

Calista managed, as she settled into the first week of classes, to mostly avoid Olivia, by sitting far away from her in class, and leaving her dormitory early in the morning, and waiting until late to go to bed at night. At mealtimes, she either sat with Kim and the other seventh years, or, more often, with Sofia and Eva, the first years that had taken to attaching themselves to her whenever they had a chance. She wondered if this was what she had done to Kim, two years ago. Was she still doing it now?

In Potions, she sat next to George Spratt, and tried her best to ignore the way he smelled. She supposed it was worth it, to not be within earshot or sabotage range of Olivia and Portia. That didn't stop the two of them from shooting her nasty looks, but Calista could handle that; she glared back, as venomously as she knew how.

Olivia was obnoxious in Transfiguration, but Calista knew to expect it by now. She really  _was_ the best in their class, and she made quite a show out of it. Calista wasn't supposed to actually try any of the third year spells yet, but she did still have to write the essays and study the material. In class, they were studying Animagi, which did not require any actual spellcasting on the part of the students, and Olivia had asked loudly how one might apply to become an Animagus. Professor McGonagall had told her she could begin the training in her sixth year, if she made it into the N.E.W.T. level classes, and if her application was approved by the Ministry.

Calista knew the chances of her making it into McGonagall's N.E.W.T. classes were astronomically low, but even if she did, she could imagine the response she'd receive from the Ministry if  _she_  ever thought to apply to be an Animagus.  _Dear Miss Snape,_ she thought the letter would say,  _We regret to inform you that your mother is an evil bitch, and therefore, you cannot become an Animagus._  It hadn't even happened, at this point wasn't even a remote possibility, but thinking about it still made her angry. She glared at the back of Olivia's perfectly coiffed blonde head, and realised at the end of the lesson that she had forgotten to take any notes on the lecture.

Being tutored by Percy was not nearly as enjoyable as Calista had hoped. She'd liked studying with him before last year's exams, and expected much the same from their peer tutoring sessions. What she had not realised was that Percy took the charge of tutoring very seriously, and there was none of their usual friendly dynamic. Instead, Percy was bossy, uptight, and absolutely perfectionist. She found that she was leaving their study sessions in a foul temper, and she wondered if she had made the right choice in requesting him as a tutor.

That was the reason why it came as something of a relief when Marcus approached her in the common room one evening, while she was looking through her Arithmancy book in preparation for the next day's lesson. She expected him to suggest they study together, as they had last year, when he slid into the chair opposite her at one of the study tables in the common room. She had already opened her mouth to offer to go and get her Transfiguration book, when he'd opened with a very unexpected line.

"You look like a girl this year. What's going on with that?"

Calista closed her mouth, and narrowed her expression reflexively into a glare.

"I  _am_  a girl," she said, crossly.

Marcus laughed easily. "At least you still sound the same. I said you look like a girl, not a goblin. It's not a  _bad_ thing."

"My aunt really likes shopping. She made me get all this stuff," she said, still defensive.

Marus shrugged, as if it wasn't really important, which made Calista wonder why he had bothered to bring it up in the first place.

"You got the ruler spell," he said, "I was really happy for you when I saw you got it, I know you hated that one."

"Oh, I still hate it," she said, "I can't stand the sight of pencils anymore. But at least now I can stop staring at one for three hours a week, trying to get it to change."

"I think badgering is going to be my least favourite," Marcus said, "I turned my mouse into a platypus by mistake. McGonagall couldn't even figure out where I went wrong, it was so bad."

"Those aren't even close."

"I know," he said, "It gets worse, though - this was in my regular class, right? Everyone else is working on turning a guinea-whatsit, a bird thing, into a guinea pig, and I'm sitting there trying to turn my mouse into a badger, which everyone else got past ages ago-"

"I know how  _that_  feels, believe me."

"So I wind up with this  _platypus_  sitting right on top of my textbook, and it just sort of blinks at me. And then McGonagall comes over, and she's really pissed off, wants to know how I managed to muck it up  _that_ badly, so I told her I got the big tail mixed up with the big bill-"

"Hang on,  _what?_ "

"Yeah," Marcus said, "Apparently, I was thinking of a beaver the whole time."

Calista laughed. "And you wound up with a platypus?"

"They both live in the water, right? It's all really confusing. There are  _way_  too many animals."

"Don't you take Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Yeah," he said, "It's my best class, after Divination. But we never talk about regular animals."

Calista raised her eyebrows. "Your best class is Divination? Are you a Seer, then?"

Marcus guffawed. "Yeah, right. Nah, Trelawny's easy. You just have to make up something that sounds horrible, and she laps it right up. I scored top marks last year by telling her I was going to die in a horrible broomstick accident."

"Ugh," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I don't even want to  _think_  about horrible broomstick accidents. I have to take stupid Flying on Friday."

"Come on, it's going to be loads of fun. I'd take it every year if I could, but once you pass they don't let you take it anymore."

"You can take mine for me," she said.

"It's not even like a real class," he said, wistfully, "It's basically like a break. The only bad part was having to use the school brooms, 'cause they wouldn't let me bring mine, my first year."

"Well," she said, "I'd rather take another class. I'd rather sit in Divination and predict my own death, than take Flying,  _especially_  since I'm going to be stuck with all the first years. I can't think of anything more humiliating."

"Sometimes they let you out before six weeks, if you're really good," he told her, "I could show you a few tricks, get you out faster."

" _No_ , thank you," Calista said quickly. "I don't want to spend any more time on a broomstick than I absolutely have to. It's just so  _boring._ "

If he practised with her, she knew he'd figure out the  _real_  reason she didn't want to fly, and she'd rather do almost anything than admit to Marcus Flint that she was afraid of flying.

He shrugged. "Well, let me know if you change your mind. I guess I should go, I have an essay for Divination already. I think I'll be poisoned this week, because of Mars, or something."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista almost thought she was in the wrong class, when she stepped into the Arithmancy classroom, and saw a sea of blue-trimmed robes. Then, in the far corner, she spotted Vincent Pryce, a Slytherin boy in the same year as her, and then she looked more carefully. The classroom was quite full, with more than thirty students, when a typical class had only ten or twenty. It was true that more than half this class were Ravenclaws - she suspected that every single one in her year was in this class - but there were clusters of other students, too. There were a fair number of Hufflepuffs, and a handful of Gryffindors.

It looked like she and Vincent were the only Slytherins, though. She was actually surprised not to see Emily Yaxley, because it seemed like just the sort of class the other girl would really like.

She looked around for Percy, and saw him sitting in the front row, with Penelope and Amelia. There was still an empty seat on the other side of Amelia, and Calista took it.

"Hey," Amelia said, catching her eye, and then nodding behind them, at the classroom in general. "So who do you think is going to drop? Percy's betting on Yvette Plummer - she's the Hufflepuff over there, with the big earrings - but he wants to make sure we all know how juvenile we're all being."

Calista smirked. "I can't believe he even bet on anyone."

"He wasn't going to," Amelia said, "But once Penny picked Isaac Waters - he's the Gryffindor with his robes buttoned crooked - he reluctantly joined in."

"Right," Calista said, looking around carefully. "Who'd you pick, then?"

"Er," Amelia said, "That Slytherin boy. Victor something."

"Vincent," Calista said, frowning. "Why him?"

"Honestly? He just has that look about him, like he's about to start drooling any minute now. That, and he went right for the back of the class. Never a good sign."

"Funny, how you pick the one Slytherin in the class."

"Uh," Amelia said, "Maybe I should've picked  _you_  instead, don't you know the difference between one and two?  _You're_ in this class, too."

She scowled. "You know what I meant."

"Come on, don't be a  _Percy_  about it, we picked a Gryffindor too, and you don't see him making faces about it."

"I-"

Calista was interrupted by the teacher walking into the classroom. Chatter had been going on, filling the room with a general hum, but Professor Vector frowned sternly at them, and in a matter of seconds it was utterly quiet.

"Welcome to Arithmancy," she said, in a brusque, loud voice that carried to the very back of the crowded classroom. "There will be absolutely no nonsense in this classroom, or you will be asked to leave. Arithmancy is a very nuanced subject, that will require your complete concentration, and if you are not willing to give it, you may leave the classroom now."

No one did.

"I will assign homework every week," she said, "And if you cannot complete it in time, do not bother coming back. I won't waste my time teaching anyone who isn't willing to commit to the level of work I expect you to do. Your homework should take you, on average, four to six hours to complete. If you finish it quicker than that, you should go back and check your work, because you've likely done it wrong."

Someone at the back of the class was getting up. Professor Vector paused, and watched the student. Heads turned, looking to see who it was.

It was the Gryffindor, the one Penelope had bet on. He tried to sidle out, unnoticed, but his chair had scraped against the floor when he got up.

"I should tell you," Professor Vector said, "That I have placed a charm at the threshold of this classroom. Anyone who walks out without a pass before the lesson is over will have their name wiped from my class register."

"Thanks, Professor," the boy said, defiantly, though his face was turning pink. "Saves me a trip to the Headmaster's office to drop it, then."

Professor Vector nodded, unconcerned, as the boy took his leave. "Is there anyone else?" she asked, "Before we waste any more time?"

If anyone else wanted to leave, none of them dared. The professor returned to her lecture.

"Now, as we've established how much work this class will be, let me establish its value to you more plainly. You will not be casting many spells in this classroom, nor will you be handling plants or animals. You will not learn any new incantations from me. What you will learn is how to pick apart the world around you, to discern patterns in everything from the most ordinary to the most extraordinary of phenomena. If you want to understand why the leaves of a Wiggenweld plant grow in a precise pattern, or why every hippogriff has precisely the same number of feathers, you are in the correct classroom. If you know the paths of the planets, but you want to know precisely how and why they occur, then you are in the correct classroom. If you want to be able to make educated predictions about the future, instead of guesses based on the remains of your meal, or the way your hands look, then you are in the correct classroom."

She looked around at them, as if judging their potential, and then she began to pace along the front of the classroom.

"More importantly, if you want to adapt a spell to suit your purposes, or even create a new spell, you will gain the tools you need in this classroom. Magic is a precise art, though it may not seem so to your as yet untrained eyes. If you truly want to master it, then you must understand exactly how it works. You must know the difference between simply waving your wand, and rotating it a precise number of degrees on a particular axis. This is where you will learn all of that, if you are willing to work hard."

After that, she had lectured about the mathematical formulas that could be used to predict the movement of celestial bodies, and had assigned them to read fifty pages in the text, and draw a chart of precisely where all the planets and moons in their solar system would be on a certain date in the future, and list the formulas they had used to solve it.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of class, Penelope smiled at the rest of them, as they gathered their things and exited the classroom. "I won the first round," she said, "Who do we think will go next?"

"I'm staying with my original bet," Amelia said, and Percy nodded, indicating he would as well.

"Very well," Penelope said, "I'll take… hm, how about John Baggins? He looked like he was going to faint when Professor Vector said how much homework we would have."

"Your pick, Calista," Amelia said, "We decided we're just going to keep picking until the first Hogsmeade weekend, and whoever's got the most rounds won by then gets all the butterbeer they can drink in an hour paid for by the rest of us."

"That is  _not_  what we agreed on," Penelope said, "We agreed on lunch."

"Right, well, if I win, I'm having butterbeer for lunch."

"We'll see about that."

Amelia shrugged, unconcerned. "I guess so. Go on, Calista, who's your choice?"

"I don't know… Lucinda Banks, I guess."

"Really?" Penelope said, raising her eyebrows, "A Ravenclaw? Well, it's your loss, then. We almost never drop classes."

"She always has this faraway look in her eyes, like she's not really paying attention."

"It's true," Amelia agreed, "But she does well on exams, anyway. I think it all seeps in there, somehow."

"What if more than one person drops?" Calista asked, "Do we all get points?"

"If the ones we pick all dropped," Penelope said, "Which may well happen. No one really has the fortitude to quit right in front of Professor Vector - well, except Isaac, of course - so they'll all wait until later to go and drop the class."

"Well, six hours of homework," Calista grumbled, " _I_ might drop the class."

"Me, too," Amelia agreed, rolling her eyes, but both of them knew that neither of them was serious. "You want to work on it together? Maybe it'll go faster."

"We really shouldn't," Penelope said, "Professor Vector didn't say we could work in pairs."

"She didn't say we  _couldn't_ , either," Calista pointed out.

"See Penny, that's why I asked Calista and not you," Amelia said.

Percy and Penelope both cast them disapproving looks. Calista caught Amelia's eye, and nodded emphatically, and both girls grinned.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Flying lessons were every bit as awful as Calista expected them to be. She stood resolutely, as far away from her assigned broomstick as she could manage without appearing ridiculous, and listened to Madam Hooch lecture them on broom safety.

When she instructed them to put their hands out, and call the broomsicks up, Calista stuck hers out halfheartedly.

"Up!" Every voice but Calista's said.

Calista said, "Come here, I guess," but the broomstick knew as plainly as she did that she didn't really mean it.

"No no no," Madam Hooch said, holding her own hand out in demonstration. "Like this: 'Up!' You've got to really mean it."

"Up," Calista said, flatly.

"No," Madam Hooch said again, and she reached for Calista's arm to straighten it. Calista started, leaping back, and then she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She had gotten a lot better, but  _still_ , sometimes, being touched unexpectedly gave her a fright.

"Fine, up, up up!" she growled, to make the instructor leave her alone.

Her broom flew up in the blink of an eye, and knocked into her arm with such a force that it caused her to wince, and stumble backwards.

" _Ow!_ " she said, rubbing her elbow. "My broom is broken. Either that, or it's just evil."

"Nonsense," Madam Hooch said, as a couple of Gryffindor first years snickered. "You were just a little  _too_  enthusiastic, is all. You need to be firm, but you don't need to yell."

Finally, with the entire class watching, all of their broomsticks waiting aloft, she managed to get hers to come up without injuring her further.

Madam Hooch instructed them how to mount their brooms. Calista shook her head.

"No way," she said, "This thing just  _attacked_  me, I'm not about to climb on top of it."

"Well, you'll be in class with me until you do," Madam Hooch said, "So you might as well get it over with."

The Gryffindors were laughing again. Calista shot them a dark look, narrowing her eyes in what she hoped was a dangerous-looking fashion. They didn't stop, but at least they tried to be more subtle about it.

A distance away, on the grass, she saw a handful of green-clad students carrying broomsticks towards the nearby Quidditch pitch, and she stood very still, hoping they wouldn't see her. She could make out the familiar forms of Kim, Conor, Marcus, and several other students she didn't know quite as well. Of  _course_  the entire Slytherin Quidditch team would be walking by, just as she was in possibly the most humiliating lesson she'd ever had. She looked away from them, staring resolutely at her broomstick, and threw her leg over it cautiously.

The broomstick was cross with her though, or else she had done something wrong, because it started to try and buck her off, and she nearly lost her balance getting back off the thing.

"Oy,  _Snapelet!_ " an incredibly loud shout rent the air; Calista groaned, and looked up. Kim was waving to her widely, and then she saw Conor and Marcus look over too, and then all three of them were waving. She ignored them.

"Don't ignore me," Kim yelled, as if she had read Calista's mind, "Not going anywhere until you wave back!"

Calista rolled her eyes, and jerked a wave back at Kim. She hoped Kim could see how annoyed she was, all the way over there. Judging by the way she threw her head back and laughed, she could.

"As soon as you're finished socialising," Madam Hooch said, and now she looked as annoyed as Calista felt, "Try and mount your broom again. This time, try not to be angry. Your broom will register your moods and react to them."

It took her six more tried before her broom would stop actively trying to throw her off, and even then, by the end of the lesson, she was the only one who had utterly refused to leave the ground. She wasn't even sure if it was the broomstick's choice or her own, but her feet remained solidly planted in the grass.

When the lesson was over, she aimed another glare at the snickering Gryffindors, but it wasn't just them anymore. Even Alex Sykes, the Slytherin boy who had sat with Sofia and Eva on the first night of term, was chuckling, as he cast a look in her direction.

She didn't know which prospect she relished least: actually getting on a broomstick and flying, or being stuck in Flying class for the rest of her school years, because she  _couldn't_. She decided to go to the Quidditch pitch, and watch the Slytherin team's practise. Maybe she could pick something useful up from watching them fly.

When she got there, though, it looked like they had just finished. Kim and Conor were already walking away, at the other end of the pitch, and the rest of the team were just sort of milling around. She was about to leave, when Marcus came out of the locker room, his broom slung over his shoulder. He had changed back into his regular robes, and his hair was wet.

"Calista," Marcus said, jogging over to her. "How was Flying class? It was brilliant, right?"

"It was completely awful. I  _hate_  it."

"Come on," he said, "How can it be that bad?"

"The stupid broom  _attacked_  me."

"Oh, well, the school brooms," Marcus said, waving his hand dismissively, "That's why, they're rubbish. Here, try mine out."

"Uhm, no thanks."

But Marcus was already taking his broom off his shoulder, and he had it levitating right next to them. He nodded his head at her expectantly.

"No way," she said, "Flying is… boring. I don't want to do it."

"Boring?" Marcus shook his head. "Then you're definitely doing it wrong. Come on, I've been trying to get you on the Quidditch pitch for two years. Now you're here, and I'm not leaving until you fly."

"I guess you'll be here forever then," she said, "But I'm off. Dinnertime."

She started to walk away, but Marcus caught her elbow, grinning.

"No way. Look, it can't hurt, right? You want to get out of flying class sooner rather than later, don't you? Show me how you fly, and I'll teach you how to do it better, and then you don't have to take any more lessons."

"I  _don't_  fly. And I don't want to start."

"You could be a natural," he said, "You don't even know, if you don't try."

"And you could be immune to poisons," she shot back, "But I'm not asking you to try drinking one to find out."

He laughed. She scowled.

"If you've really never flown before," he said, reasonably, "You're probably going to fall the first time. Would you rather do that in front of me, or in front of the entire first year class?"

"I'd rather not fall at all."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not keep melting cauldrons," he said, "And - weird - it seems like we can help each other with those things. Convenient, huh?"

Calista sighed. Around them, daylight was just beginning to fade. "You're not allowed to laugh at me," she said.

"Laugh at you? That'd be rich, wouldn't it? I'm the one who doesn't know the difference between a badger and a platypus."

She cracked a smile. She couldn't help it.

"Fine," she said, taking a breath and squaring her shoulders. She braced herself as she climbed tentatively onto the broomstick, but this one didn't try to buck her off. She looked at Marcus. "Now what?"

"Tilt the handle up a bit," he said, "To get off the ground. And lean forward, it helps you balance better."

She followed his instruction, trying her best to look as if she were simply bored, and not terrified. She leaned forward, and tilted the handle up - and the broom jerked upward, lifting her feet off the ground.

She panicked, and gripped the broomstick for dear life, heart pounding. She forgot to even worry about what her face looked like. "Okay," she yelled, "okay, I'm done. How do I get down?"

She was perhaps fifteen feet above the ground; the broom was carrying her slowly forward, which she did  _not_  like.

"Okay," Marcus said, and to his credit, he sounded quite calm, and not at all like he was going to laugh, even though she must have looked ridiculous, shoulders hunched, clutching onto the broomstick that was barely even moving. "You can't - you have to sit up, and push your weight forward a bit. Tilt the handle down, but slowly, or you'll crash.

She tried to follow his instructions, but as soon as the broom started to swing downwards, she panicked again and forgot what she was supposed to do, clutching the handle awkwardly again.

"Sit up," he reminded her, "You can tilt it slower, if you want. You're almost there, and then you can get down."

She finally managed to land the broomstick; when her feet touched solid ground again, she was as pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf.

Before she could dismount, she felt Marcus settle onto the broomstick behind her.

"Okay, so you're not a natural," he said, as his arms came around her, and he placed his hands on the handle of the broomstick, just in front of hers.

"What are you doing?" she asked, testily. She wanted to walk away from the Quidditch pitch, collapse into her bed, and never even  _think_  about flying again. She would just have to tell her father, and anyone else that thought to make her learn, that she was simply not going to do it.

"You should have just told me you were scared," Marcus said, near her ear, as he lifted off from the ground. "I would have gone up with you."

"What are you doing?" she repeated, hearing her own panic clearly.

"If being scared is all you remember about flying," he said, as they began a slow circle around the pitch, only a bit higher than Calista had just been, "You'll never have a reason to learn, will you?"

"I don't want a reason to learn," she said, crouching low and keeping as much of her body in contact with the broomstick as possible, as if that would keep her from falling. "I hate this. Bring me back down."

"Sit up more," he said, and he took one of his own hands off the broomstick, and put it gently to her midsection. "Bring your hands back a bit."

"No way," she said, through gritted teeth. "I'll fall."

"You won't," he said, "I won't let you. Trust me; I'm actually quite good at this, you know."

"I don't care. Bring me down."

Marcus laughed. "You're being  _such_  a girl," he teased. "I wouldn't have expected this from you."

She did sit up a bit now, so that she could turn her head and glare at him. In that instant, Marcus shifted his own weight, and used the hand that was on her stomach to adjust hers. He pushed her hands back, closer to her body, and held them in place by putting his own back on the broomstick in front of them.

"Ready?"

"No!"

"Too bad," he said, and tilted the broomstick handle up. They soared higher and faster into the air, and Calista felt her stomach drop.

"Relax your shoulders," he said, raising his voice so she could hear him over the wind, as the broom continued to pick up speed.

Calista thought that was easier said than done; of course he'd  _said_  he wouldn't let her fall, but she didn't see how he could really be certain she wouldn't. Even in the near-darkness, she could tell that her knuckles were white from gripping the broomstick as hard as she could.

They made several wide circles, around the outside edge of the Quidditch pitch, and, in infinitesimally small increments, she actually did begin to relax, slightly.

"See?" Marcus said, "It's not so bad."

"Not… not so good, either," she countered, nervously.

"S'okay… we'll just go around like this until you're calm," he said, " _Then_ , I'll show you the fun part."

They circled around a few more times, and then, even though Calista hadn't said she was feeling any better about the whole thing, Marcus shifted his weight again, and suddenly, they were climbing even higher; higher, certainly, than she'd  _ever_  wanted to be off the ground.

He cut a turn, leaning to one side, and then they began to descend; they were going very fast now, but at a shallow angle that actually didn't seem so bad. He cut another turn, and started climbing again.

"All right?" he asked her, as he took another turn, started flying downwards again.

"I guess so," she managed, and as they kept flying, it actually became sort of true. They were up very high, and Calista thought they were going very fast, but all of the maneuvers Marcus was executing were done quite smoothly, and he was careful to keep all of their ascents and descents alike fairly shallow, so it never seemed as if they were about to crash.

After a while, it still didn't seem quite like fun to Calista, but it also didn't feel nearly as frightening, either. She felt that she was able to relax, eventually, and stop imagining herself falling off. Marcus' arms were solidly around her shoulders, and it did start to seem highly unlikely that she would fall off.

And then, once her senses were no longer tied up with being afraid, she became acutely aware of the fact that she was very, very close to a  _boy_ , and not in a way that she ever had been before. Once she had thought of the fact that his arms were around her, keeping her from falling, she couldn't put it out of her mind. And then, there were his hands right in front of hers, touching them, and the fact that her back was pressed right against him.

Of course, it was just Marcus. She'd sat across a study table from him countless times, walked right next to him in corridors, even had him lead her out of the common room, standing right with him, him holding onto her arm, when Olivia had said something awful, and made her eyes blur with tears she'd rather have died than shed in front of her housemates. She was used to being around him, probably was more comfortable with him than with any other student at Hogwarts.

But she had never been  _this_  close, and she found that, somehow, once she had registered it, she couldn't forget it. She felt her cheeks get hot, so that the cool wind suddenly felt good against her skin. She was glad that it was dark now, so he wouldn't happen to see the blush that she knew must be rising to her face. It wasn't, she told herself quite firmly, that she cared about the fact that he was a boy - of course she didn't, why would she? - it was just that it felt strange to be physically that close to anyone. She wished she could go back to being afraid, so she would forget how odd she felt, now.

It would have been easier if he didn't  _feel_  so much like a boy, she thought. His chest felt solid where it was leaning against her back, and his arms were strong, even a bit muscular. She felt her heart racing, and she had no idea why.

"Okay," Marcus said, leaning forward, his face near her ear again, "Ready to go back down?"

She nodded emphatically, not trusting her voice to come out normal. What was  _wrong_  with her all of a sudden?

He flew to one end of the pitch, and then turned the handle down at a moderate angle, using the length of the pitch to descend, again avoiding a steep angle that might make her feel as if they were crashing, even though she had seen him fly at very steep angles during Quidditch games. They glided to an easy stop, and Marcus hopped off the broom, holding his hand out to help her down, as well.

"Come on," he said, as she slid off the broom, refusing to take the hand he offered as aid, "You have to admit, that was fun."

"Uhm," she said, refusing to look at him, "I guess, yeah, it was all right."

He took his broomstick, slung it over his shoulder, where it had been when she'd first come to the pitch and run into him. "Only all right? Maybe I should've flown faster, then." He grinned, as easily as always.

"I think we missed dinner," she said, because it seemed like a neutral, safe thing to say.

Marcus checked his watch. It was fairly dark, but there was most of a moon, so he could read the time.

"Yeah, we did," he said, "But I bet we can still go and nick something from the kitchens."

"I'm… not really that hungry," she said hastily, but of course, her stomach chose that moment to growl, loudly.

"Right," Marcus said, starting to walk towards the castle, "Just like you weren't scared to try flying, right? Come on, let's go.  _I'm_  bloody starving."

Reluctantly, she matched his pace, walking with him. She thought she could still feel the heat of a blush on her cheeks.

Once they'd gotten inside the castle, they slipped down to the corridor that led to the kitchens. Marcus took his broom off his shoulder, held it out to Calista. "Here, hang on to this for me, and stand guard. I'll sneak in and grab a bunch of stuff for us."

He walked up to the painting of fruit that hung on a nearby wall, and tickled the pear. The portrait swing open, and he disappeared behind it.

Calista tried to clear her mind and school her expression while he was in there, and she had succeeded, she thought, in neutralising her facial expression, and pushing all thoughts about their ride into the back of her mind, safely tucked behind two sets of barriers.

Marcus emerged from the portrait hole, arms laden with whatever he could grab from the kitchens, and nodded towards the far end of the hall. "Now we just have to get to the common room," he said, "Keep an eye out for Filch and his mangy cat, will you?"

He had his arms full with food, so Calista carried the broomstick. She cast it a nasty glare, as if the broomstick were to blame for the strange way she'd felt earlier…

And damn it, once she had thought of it again, she felt the blush rising to her face again. She scowled. This was bloody  _ridiculous_ , what the hell was wrong with her? This was only  _Marcus_ , for Merlin's sake, the boy who didn't know how much a dash was, who freely admitted to being the thickest student in his class in more than one subject, who only wanted to graduate from Hogwarts so he could join a professional Quidditch team.

 _The boy who's always been nice to you, even though you thought he reminded you of a troll at first_ , her brain said to her, sneakily.  _The boy who stood up for you in front of the whole common room, and keeps trying to help you with Transfiguration, even though he hasn't really got the hang of it himself._

 _Yeah,_  she said back, to whatever part of her brain that had come from,  _Because we're friends. Just regular friends, except he happens to be a boy and I happen to be a girl, and that doesn't have to mean anything special._

Besides, she didn't even  _like_  boys, not like that. She didn't. She definitely didn't.

They reached the entrance to the common room. "Salazar," Marcus said, and the wall opened up.

They entered the common room, and Calista wanted to go right back out again, because she immediately spotted Olivia among the handful of students that were scattered around the room. She was sitting in an armchair, reading a book, and she looked up at Calista and Marcus as they entered.

Calista did her best to ignore Olivia, as Marcus piled all the food he had stolen on one of the study tables; an apple started to roll off, and Calista grabbed it in her free hand, and set it down where it wouldn't roll away, before holding Marcus' broom out to him.

"Thanks," he said, taking the broomstick, "I'll just put this away in my room, and I'll be right back - don't eat everything on me, eh?" he teased, on his way out of the common room.

As soon as he had gone, Olivia rose, and strutted over to the table.

"Working on getting fat like Portia, and your little Mudblood friend?" she asked, eyeing the pile of food, and still holding her book in one arm. Her page was marked with what looked like a sheet of newsprint. "I don't think your new boyfriend Marcus would like you much anymore if that happened."

"Sod off," Calista growled, even more fiercely than she would usually have done.

"I wonder if he knows about your  _other_  boyfriend, though," Olivia pretended to muse thoughtfully, "That weird little Weasley boy. Do you think he knows, Calista?"

"What's  _wrong_  with you?" Calista snapped, "I don't have any  _boyfriends_ , and I don't want any, either, so shut your stupid, prissy mouth and  _leave me alone_."

And, of course, Marcus chose that precise moment to return, and Calista felt her face heating up again. She focused her attention on the surface of the table in front of her, trying to block both Marcus and Olivia from her thoughts, and clear her expression.

"Hi Marcus," Olivia said, and Calista could hear the syrup in her voice, "How was Quidditch practise?"

Marcus hesitated. "Er, it was good."

Calista glanced up; Marcus was looking from one of the girls to the other; he seemed to sense that there was something going on between them, but his expression was clouded, as if he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"Should I… should I go?" he wondered, looking to Calista for confirmation.

"No," both girls said in unison. Calista flashed Olivia a glare, who returned it with one of her own.

"That is," Olivia continued, in the same falsely sweet tone of voice, "I was just leaving, as soon as I give this book to Calista."

She set the book on the table in front of Calista, shoving the apple out of the way as she did so. "I've marked the page I think you should read," Olivia said, leaning close to her; Calista could hear a sinister hiss beneath Olivia's falsely friendly tone.

The blonde girl stalked off, head held high, and Calista chanced a glance at Marcus. He looked utterly confused. "What was  _that_  all about?" he asked.

Calista looked down at the cover of the book. It was their first year textbook,  _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_. She scowled. "Apparently, Olivia thinks it's hilarious that I'm in r- extra lessons for Transfiguration," she said, "I bet if I open to the page she's marked, it's going to be that blasted ruler spell - wow, how  _bloody clever_ of her."

Marcus picked up a few slices of bread and cheese, and made them into a sandwich. He took a big bite, chewed, and swallowed, before replying.

"Don't pay any attention to her," Marcus advised, waving his sandwich around emphatically, "I bet you anything she's just sore because she asked Derek Logan out today, and he told her he fancies Endria Folland. 'Course, everyone fancies Endria, that doesn't mean she'll agree to go out with him."

"Everyone?" Calista echoed, and then was not sure why she had done so.

"Well, most everyone," Marcus amended, taking another bite of his sandwich. He glanced around, as if checking the room for someone in particular. "Ahkint shay-"

He swallowed, and began again, "I can't say I blame them, she's a right stunner, yeah? But-"

Marcus was saying something else, but Calista found she suddenly didn't want to listen anymore. She flipped the cover of Olivia's book open with unnecessary force, and the book fell open to the page Olivia had marked with a sheet of newsprint.

Calista stared at the page, and she felt all of the colour drain from her face; her heart pounded in her chest, and even though she hadn't actually eaten any of the food they'd stolen yet, she felt like she was going to vomit.

Staring up at her, from the page of newsprint Olivia had stuck in the book, was a heavy-lidded, smirking image of her mother's face, holding up a small black sign with the words "Azkaban Prison" and a string of numbers printed on it in white lettering.

She tore her eyes from those of her mother, and forced herself to look at the headline.  _Bellatrix Lestrange, Two Others Arrested After Brutal Torture of Two Aurors_ , it read. It was precisely the same article that her father had once shown her, years ago, as proof that Bellatrix wasn't at large anymore, and couldn't come for her, but somehow, the shock of seeing the article now, in this book that Olivia had thrust at her, was far worse than it had been in her father's quarters when she was small.

She grabbed the article, and crumpled it up in one hand, while she slammed the book closed with the other, and leapt off her chair. She managed to glance in Marcus' direction, and saw a question written plainly on his face. She couldn't answer it, couldn't think of anything to say at all.

"Calista?" he said, and his voice seemed somehow faraway to her, unreal, "What's wrong?"

"I - I'm going to bed," she managed, and ran to her dormitory room.

She didn't even look to see if anyone else was in there, before she buried herself under the covers, and hid her head underneath her pillow. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the heat of tears pressing against the insides of her eyelids, but refusing, utterly refusing to let them out.

She forgot about crumpling the article up, until her palm started to itch, and she realised it was still squeezed into her hand. She sat up, and began to tear the article up, into smaller and smaller pieces, until they littered the covers of her bed like sinister, misshapen snowflakes.

Well, that answered one question. Olivia had not been bluffing; she definitely knew who Calista's mother was.


	4. Chapter 4

When Calista headed reluctantly into the Great Hall for breakfast the morning after Olivia had slipped her the article about her mother, Sofia and Eva waved her over, instructing the other first years near them to make room. She hesitated, glanced at the section of the table that Kim and her friends usually sat. Marcus was sitting with them, he and Conor talking Quidditch with their heads bent low. Calista walked past them, and sat down with the first years.

"Morning, Calista," Sofia said, shifting over. "I had my first Potions class yesterday. You were right about your dad - all of it. He really knows what he's talking about."

"I know that."

"And," Eva added, "He  _really_  doesn't like people messing around in class. Tell her about the twins, Sof."

Sofia nodded, "Oh my gosh, Calista, you won't believe it. There's a pair of twins in our class - they're Gryffindors - and they kept trying to put something in another boy's cauldron. I don't know what it was, but whatever it was, it was something dangerous, because Professor Snape was really angry. He called them dunderheads, asked if they were trying to blow up the whole classroom - and one of them, he says yes, they  _are_  trying to blow up the classroom, just to see what would happen. I couldn't believe it. He gave them both detention for a  _month_ , and he took twenty points from Gryffindor."

"So we're in the lead now, for House Cup," Eva added slyly.

Calista was suddenly glad she had resigned herself to sitting with Sofia and Eva, because they'd hit on something that was sufficient to distract her from thinking about the article she'd torn to bits in her dormitory room.

"Great." she said, flatly. "This was yesterday?  _I_  have a lesson with my dad this morning. I hope he's not still in a rotten mood from those idiots - hang on,"

She looked at Sofia, suspicion beginning to dawn. Something someone had told her before was niggling at the back of her mind. "You said they were twins? Did they… did they have red hair?"

Both girls nodded. "Yeah," Sofia said, "How'd you know? Have you seen them around? Oh - I know, you must have seen them in Flying class, right? They were kind of, uhm, laughing at you."

"Er, no," Calista said, "I was too busy wondering if I could get away with setting my broom on fire to pay attention to  _them_. But now I'm thinking those twins must be my friend's younger brothers. He said they were always causing trouble."

Eva laughed. "You really don't like flying, do you? How come you're in class with us, anyway? Did you fail it before?"

" _No_ ," Calista said, crossly, "I didn't  _fail_. I just never took it before. I… my dad let me wait to take it."

"Who's your friend?" Sofia asked, "Is she in Slytherin?"

"He's a he. His name's Percy, and no, he's not. He's in Gryffindor, too."

Sofia and Eva both raised their eyebrows.

"Really," Eva said slowly, and she and Sofia exchanged a look. "That's odd, isn't it?"

"What's odd?" Calista challenged, hoping she was giving them a sufficiently dangerous glare.

"Easy," Sofia said, inching away just a bit, "It's just… well, another girl in your year - Portia Macnair, you know her? Well, she told us that… that Slytherins and Gryffindors aren't supposed to, you know,  _socialise_."

"Portia Macnair," Calista said, firmly, "Is a daft cow who doesn't know how to think for herself. She probably had to get someone else to write that down for her before she said it. You can  _socialise_  with whoever you want."

"Well, we're all in competition, aren't we?" Eva pressed, "The House Cup, Quidditch, all that?"

"So? Are you going to stop being friends with everyone you ever play Gobstones against?"

Sofia snickered.

" _What?_ " Calista asked, annoyed.

"Sorry - it's just, no one plays Gobstones anymore, Calista, that's for babies."

"Okay," Calista said, testily, "Wizard chess, then. It doesn't matter, you get the point. Don't listen to anything Portia says, she's full of shit - mostly Olivia Avril's."

Both girls laughed, then. "Yeah," Sofia said, " _She_  seems like kind of a snob, doesn't she? Eva and I ran into her - we were lost, trying to get to History of Magic - and we asked her for help and she just kind of turned her nose up at us, told us to ask a Prefect."

"Really?" Calista asked, pushing her plate away, "I'm surprised she didn't try to recruit you to her fan club. I guess Portia and the second-years are enough for her." She shrugged. "I have to go. 'Elective' studies again, what a joke."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When Calista entered Severus' office, he stood up, and waved her back out. "We're going into my quarters again. I've had an idea."

"Hm. I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Ah," Severus said, aiming for a light tone, but missing slightly. Calista knew him well enough to hear the teasing note in his voice, all the same. "Then you know precisely how I felt when I opened my desk the other day."

The cat picture. She had nearly forgotten about that. She turned her head, something between a smirk and a grin playing at her lips. "You're welcome."

"I do wish you'd learn to draw something besides cats," he said, almost petulantly.

"I can," she said, "I just choose not to."

"Insufferable."

"I know."

They were in the small corridor that connected all the rooms of his quarters now. Severus tapped his wand to the door that led to his private workroom down another flight of stairs, and she heard the click of the lock releasing.

"Oh, am I having a Potions lesson instead of Occlumency?" she asked, a bit hopefully. She liked Occlumency, in theory, but it was very draining; and besides, there were things on her mind today that she wasn't ready to share with him.

"No, not instead of." He motioned her down the stairs. "Concurrently with."

When she had reached the bottom landing, she waited for him to follow, and greeted him with raised eyebrows. "You're going to trust me to brew a potion without giving it my full attention?"

"I still expect you to give it your full attention," he said, "But just in case, I think we'll do something that's difficult to start a fire with. We'll make a Sleeping Draught."

It was a potion she'd perfected before they'd even studied it officially in class, since it was one of the ones they'd practised with when she was younger. There were a lot of ways to ruin it, if one wasn't careful, but none of them was likely to present a particular danger to the brewer.

"We?"

"Well," Severus clarified, "You'll make it, and I'll harass you if you make a mistake."

"Excellent," Calista said darkly, "Is it my birthday, or something? I don't know if I can handle all this fun."

He flicked a tendril of thought at her outermost barrier, and she scowled. She scanned the shelves behind where he had a cauldron set up; everything she needed for the potion looked like it was there. She didn't need to follow a recipe anymore, for this particular potion, so she began measuring and lining up her ingredients, instead.

Immediately, she sensed pressure against her outer barrier, and she kept part of her mind attuned to it, so she would know when it was time to redirect the energy from that barrier towards her innermost one.

Severus slipped through her first barrier while she was still measuring. She counted out four sprigs of valerian, and then began recovering all of the jars, placing them back where they belonged.

He was at her second barrier before she had finished redirecting the energy from the first to strengthen her remaining defences. It was significantly harder to do when she was focusing on something else, and she allowed herself a few seconds of pause, under guise of putting the jars away, to swiftly gather the remains of the first barrier, and weave it into her third one.

"Nice try; keep working on the potion."

"Seriously? Three seconds and you're on my case?"

In reply, she felt him break through her second barrier, and advance towards the third.

Calista took a small, sharp knife, and began to chop her lavender sprigs into even chunks - the recipe didn't call for chopping them, but her father had told her it improved the potion's duration to do so. She resisted the strong urge to pause, while internally, she frantically tried to reinforce her third barrier.

She felt him inspecting the wall, either looking for weak spots or assessing its strength, she judged. She tried to ignore that, and concentrate on building up her defences, but it was  _hard_.

She came quite close to nicking her finger with the blade, and she paused, shutting her eyes while she hurriedly added strength to the wall.

"You've stopped working," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I did, because I'm working with a  _knife_ ," she said, acidly. What was wrong with him today? There was an edge to his voice that she didn't like. It was one that she had heard many times before, often enough even directed at her, but not when she hadn't done anything wrong. She hadn't, had she?

And then, unbidden, she could feel the memory of her flying lesson the day before beginning to surface; and the memory of flying with with Marcus following it, too, and she  _definitely_  didn't want him to come across that, so she forced it down, hiding it beneath and behind the substance of other memories.

Severus pushed relentlessly through her third barrier, and of course, as the brain is wont to do, once it had realised there were things she didn't want to remember in that moment, it started dredging them up. Just as her father broke through her final layer of defence, the image of the newspaper article Olivia had slipped her was swimming in her brain; she tried to hide that, too, but she knew she hadn't quite managed it.

Severus withdrew his presence from her mind, and she expected him to comment on it. She turned back to her potion, began chopping the lavender again, rebuilding her mental walls and waiting for him to say something, ask her why that article was on her mind after all this time. Instead, she felt his mind pushing against the outer edge of hers again; but this wasn't how their lessons went, he  _always_  said something in between attempts, offered some advice or explained a problem he'd noticed.

"Dad?" she said, pausing her knife again. "Are you…" She could feel him slicing through the first wall in her mind, and now she was upset, and couldn't redirect her mental energy as smoothly into another layer of defence. "Are you cross with me?"

"No; should I be?" He was advancing towards her second defence again. At least he was not looking at any of her thoughts; she could feel him bypassing all of them, focused only on testing her defences.

"I haven't done anything." She set the knife down, closed her eyes again, and tried to funnel all of her mental strength into her final defence; she felt slightly shaken by his manner today, but she managed to reinforce the final barrier just before he reached it.

"No one said you have. Your eyes are closed again." It took only a handful of seconds for him to break through again; she wasn't sure if his intrusions were particularly strong that day, or if her defences were particularly weak. She felt, now, that if it wasn't the latter, it was about to be. He withdrew, and she opened her eyes again.

She studied him carefully, trying to see if there was anything outwardly visible that would clue her in as to why he seemed so cross.

She felt his mind brush against her first barrier, again, still without having offered any critiques or suggestions. She furrowed her brow, bit the insides of her mouth, not understanding - and then, she crossed the four or six paces that separated them, and looked up at him.

"Dad," she said again, and she felt him pause, as he met her gaze. There was something; he  _was_  angry, she could see a particular glint in her eyes that told her so. "What's wrong?"

Severus met her gaze, briefly, and then his eyes flicked upwards, over her head, towards the worktop where the cauldron still waited, empty, ingredients lined up neatly. "What gives you the impression that something's wrong?" he asked, silkily.

"Uhm,  _everything_ ," she said, and her voice came out a bit more forcefully than she had meant it to, because he was being evasive in a way that he normally wasn't, not with her, and it unnerved her. "You  _look_ angry, and this whole thing -" she gestured to the cauldron set up behind them, and then passed her hand a few inches in front of her face, back and forth, indicating his presence in her mind, "This isn't a lesson, you're just attacking me. So if I did something wrong, can you at least tell me what it is? And if I didn't… well, then I wish you'd stop treating me like I did."

Severus met her gaze again, locked onto the dark eyes that really were quite like his own, although at the moment, hers were far more openly expressive than his were. He read a measure of fear in them, and bewilderment, and an impatient sort of concern that he knew she had learned from him.

"You haven't done anything wrong - that I know of - and I'm not angry with you," he repeated, and then he closed his eyes briefly, and shook his head slightly. She felt him withdraw entirely from her mind. "But perhaps we should end your lesson early today. I'm not in a particularly good mood."

"Well, that's blindingly obvious."

He gestured towards the stairs. "I'm sorry I seemed cross with you. I'll put everything away down here, you go on and do what you like with the rest of the day."

She frowned at him. "What I like? You're telling me to do what I like, and you're not reminding me that 'what I like' can't involve anything dangerous, illegal, or flammable?"

"Well, as it seems you have a handle on that already, I don't suppose I need to."

She went upstairs, shaking her head, and he waited until she had closed the door to the workroom stairs before he walked over to the worktop, and started clearing away the remnants from the potion she hadn't even truly started. Most of the ingredients were untouched, and he put those ones away in their proper jars before disposing of those that were not.

He climbed the stairs, and spell-locked the workroom door behind him - then, he glimpsed a flash of motion in the kitchen just ahead of him. He stepped into it, and saw that Calista hadn't left his quarters after all, was now setting two mugs down at the table. The aroma of coffee called to him, and he sat down, accepting the mug that was at his place.

She climbed into the chair across from his, picked up her own mug. She may have been thirteen now, and growing taller by the day, but Severus noted she still pulled her feet up under her on the chair, curling up on the seat, just as she had when she was six years old.

"I told you to go do whatever you like," he said, taking a sip of coffee; it was good. She hadn't watered it down, like he had done the last few times he'd let her have it.

"I am." she said, playing with the handle of her mug, and looking at him across the table.

"I'm not good company today, Calista."

"Again, that's blindingly obvious," she said, lifting her mug and blowing across the top of it to cool the coffee some. "What's bothering you, anyway?"

He blinked. "I told you, it's nothing you've done. It's nothing to do with you at all."

She took a sip of coffee, and closed her eyes briefly. "Sorry, but I definitely make this much better than you do," she said, setting her mug back down carefully. "I know it's nothing to do with me, but… I just thought… maybe you would, you know, feel better if you talked to me about whatever it is."

"That's not necessary."

"I know it's not  _necessary_ ," she said, "But it might help."

"I don't think so."

Calista frowned, and tried again. "Is it… is it those twins, Percy's brothers? A couple of the first years told me they were acting up in your class-"

"'Acting up'? They were trying to burn my entire classroom down."

"So that's why you're angry, then?"

"Calista, it's not your concern."

"Yes, it is."

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't see how."

"It's my  _concern_ ," she said, with a touch of irritation, leaning forward a bit to speak to him more directly, "Because I care about you just as much as you care about me, and you always - it doesn't matter if it's three in the morning, if something's upset me, you always make time to talk to me about it, and it nearly always makes me feel loads better - and today, you're upset, and it's my turn to try and make you feel better."

Severus regarded her across the table; he hardly dared to believe she was sincere. He had long since accepted that his daughter was, at her core, a distant child - one who would only confide in him when she felt there was no other coping mechanism available to her, no other way she could sleep peacefully. He accepted his lot in her life as a last resort, knowing she would always try and choose independence over his help, and he had resigned himself to the fact that she expected the same from him. Truthfully, she had never seemed interested in his feelings before, except as they related to her own life.

She did appear to be sincere, though. She was curled up comfortably in her chair, and her eyes were on him, expectant. Her shoes were even sitting on the floor, underneath her chair. It certainly didn't look as though she were prepared to go anywhere. Was this an opportunity to become closer with her, to create some sort of reciprocity between them, at last?

Of course, she was a child - he refused to use the word teenager yet, even to himself - so it was highly doubtful that confiding in her would yield any insight he had not already thought of himself, but even so… hadn't it always made him slightly sad, to realise that the one living person he was closest to would never ask him how  _he_  was feeling? Hadn't he wanted, in some hidden away part of himself, to tell  _someone_  how he felt, once in awhile?

"You… you really want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't." That was probably true; she had never asked before.

"Well," he said, taking another swallow of coffee, and setting the half-empty mug down firmly. "It's not just the Weasley brats, it's the whole damn lot of first year Gryffindors, and I suppose it's a significant portion of all of the students, in all four houses. They have no respect for the art of potion making, and certainly none for me."

"Some of them do, though," Calista said, " _I_ do, of course, and Emily and Percy, in my class. And a couple of the first years, Sofia Lima and Evangeline Selwyn - they think you're brilliant. And I know Kim Avery likes you, and probably most of her friends, too."

"I don't care if they  _like_  me," he said, "I want them to respect me, of course, but more importantly, I want them to give a damn about the safety of other  _students_. In more than half my classes, there's someone I need to watch constantly to be sure they don't kill someone by mistake, and now these two are evidently trying to do it in  _purpose_ , and yet the Headmaster says I'm not allowed to refuse to teach them until after they take their O.W.L.'s."

Calista frowned. "What exactly were they doing?"

"They were attempting to slip Fizzing Whizbee candies into a classmate's Boil Cure Potion."

She furrowed her brow. "What would that do?"

"Fizzing Whizbees have billywig stings in them," he said, "Which cause levitation in mammals, and explosions in cauldrons, when not treated with proper caution. And if they had managed to blow their classmate up, who do you suppose would have been held responsible?"

Calista reached for her coffee again. "Percy told me his little brothers are loads of trouble," she said, "I guess he wasn't exaggerating."

Severus exhaled. "It's part of the job; I know that. It's just an exceptionally nerve wracking part of the job with those two  _heathens_."

"Maybe Percy can talk to them," Calista suggested, but Severus shook his head.

"Don't concern yourself with it, Calista. I can handle it. I only told you because you wanted to know why I was cross, and that's a significant part of the reason."

Well, and he did feel just a bit less burdened, didn't he? She couldn't help him, but he was honestly slightly touched that she wanted to try.

"So what's the rest of the reason? The insignificant part?" A playful smile teased its way onto her face.

Severus studied her face for a moment before he spoke.

"Let me ask you something," he said at last, "What do you think of your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Professor Mulhorn? She's all right, I guess."

"Do you suppose she knows her subject matter well?"

Calista shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, it's a bit early to say."

"Mm." Severus tapped on the handle of his mug, focused his eyes on his working fingers, and held his silence again.

"So it's something to do with her, then?"

Severus looked up. He probably shouldn't tell her this; no, he  _definitely_  shouldn't tell her this. But she was asking, and he was pissed off.

"I've looked up her exam scores," Severus said, "She only passed her O.W.L. with an 'Acceptable' in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She didn't even take the exam at the N.E.W.T. level."

"Seriously?" Calista reached for her mug again; it was only warm, now, so she drained the majority of it in one long sip. "I'm pretty sure  _I_  could get an 'Acceptable' O.W.L. if I took it now. Don't you have to have something better than that to  _teach_?"

"I certainly always had that impression."

"What did  _you_  get in Defence?"

"Outstanding," Severus said, "On my O.W.L.  _and_  my N.E.W.T."

"You should teach it, then."

He glanced sharply at her. Did she know, somehow, that he had applied, had been applying every year since he'd been given the Potions post? He couldn't tell for certain from her expression.

"I applied," he said shortly, sharply.

She furrowed her brow. "But… if  _you_  applied, why'd they hire someone inferior?"

"The Headmaster thought," Severus said, and he couldn't quite keep his voice level, "That my taking the post would somehow  _tempt_  me to return to practising the Dark Arts."

Silence hung between them. Severus felt his breath pause, and a dim, hollow fear begin to open in his chest. As a habit, he did not typically reference his past to his daughter; she had seen, firsthand, the worst of what the Dark Lord's Death Eaters were capable of, and he did not like to remind her that he had once been one of them. Was still one, in the most technical of terms, because the Dark Mark still marked his skin; and he knew how much she hated Bellatrix, didn't like to remind Calista to associate him with her mother.

She was still quiet. Was she wondering, perhaps, if the Headmaster was right? If there was some part of him, some sliver of darkness still, that was capable of returning to his old ways? Well, of course that sliver was there; but the entire point of who he was now was that he was strong enough to resist it. He dared, at last, to look into her face again. He was already prepared to dismiss her curtly, to resolve not to try opening up to her again, at least not until she was older - but as it turned out, he needn't have been.

She was regarding him incredulously; he could see outrage clouding her features. "But that's… that's ridiculous," she said, at last, shaking her head. "Doesn't he know you better than that?"

"Evidently not." But he was warmed, anyway, to know that  _she_ at least did.

"Besides," Calista said, pushing the now-cold remnants of her coffee away from her. The playful half-smile returned to her lips. "If putting up with  _me_  for seven years hasn't driven you to return to the Dark Arts, then nothing will."

"Perhaps I'll mention that the next time I apply," he said wryly.

She slipped off her chair, picked up her mug, and checked his; it was empty, so she picked it up as well, and brought them both over to the small sink. Watching her wash them out, he was reminded powerfully of the way a very similar scene had played out, when he had still been trying to earn her trust.

It was the same, in many ways: the coffee, her taking their cups and washing them out, the way she sat on her chair. And yet, in so many beautiful ways, it was different: their conversation, the fact that, for once, she had allowed  _him_  to open up to  _her_. And there was, of course, the fact that she no longer needed to stand on the seat of the kitchen chair to reach the sink.

"I love you."

The words were out of his mouth before he realised it; he hadn't meant to say it, now, on a perfectly ordinary Saturday morning - or was it afternoon, now? It was against their unspoken rules, the ones that kept tender moments confined to the aftermath of a traumatic event, or, once, an extended absence from each other's company. But the water in the sink was running; perhaps she hadn't even heard him.

The water stopped. She stayed where she was, across the kitchen, her back to him. "I-"

She started to speak, and then stopped. She opened the cupboard, put both of their mugs away. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"I love you too, Dad."

He waited, for her to make the inevitable joke or wisecrack, for her to lift away the sudden weight of the moment, the way she always did; the way, perhaps, she had learned from him. He prepared himself to chuckle at whatever she said next, whether he actually found it amusing or not, so they could return to their customary bantering style of interaction, to safe ground.

But the half-smile, half-smirk he expected didn't come to her face, and the emotion didn't slide out of her eyes. She opened her mouth; here it was, then, a few seconds late, the sardonic comment - except, it wasn't.

"I really do," she said, her voice low. "I mean, I hope you know, that's all. I… I know I'm not very good at saying it, but…" she exhaled. "I just… something reminded me recently, of just what it was you saved me from… and it's just too lucky, you know? Because if you  _weren't_  exactly you, if you never came to find me, if you weren't brilliant at legilimency, if you didn't - for some reason I still don't completely understand, by the way - care about me enough to keep trying to help me, even when… when nobody else saw the point…"

Her eyes glittered, but she did not shed a tear. Severus wanted to leap up from his chair and hug her, but he was afraid she would stop talking if he did, and this seemed important for her to say; so he stayed where he was, and kept his eyes on her, listening attentively.

She took a deep breath, and then continued, "If you weren't - if you didn't do - all those things, I know I'd probably be dead. She… she would have done what she wanted to, and…"

He could see her jaw working, as she fought to keep control over her emotions. "And the thing is, before you came to find me, she could've done it, and I don't think anyone would've even known… or cared, if they did… and now, it's like… I just… I can't say this," she swallowed, inhaled, raised her gaze resolutely to the ceiling; and when she had lowered it, she had managed to school her expression. Most of the emotion was gone now, wiped away from her features.

But when she spoke again, he could tell where it had all gone; she'd forced it out of her face, but not out of her voice. "When you're a person who… who just always knew that no one loved them, and no one was ever going to… and you convince yourself you don't need it, you know?"

Severus did know. It didn't matter if she was finished talking or not - he was out of his chair now, and he had wrapped his arms around her. He was startled to realise that the top of her head came to his shoulder already.

"I'm just… really happy that I was wrong," she said, with finality. They stood like that for several seconds, and then she retreated just enough to tilt her face up to look at him.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to say any of that again," she said, with a breathy not-quite-laugh, "So I hope you were listening."

There were a hundred things he could say, but he settled on what he felt was the most important one.

"I want you to know," Severus said, removing his arms from around her, and placing his hands at the sides of her face, "That you were absolutely worth saving."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

The next day, Sunday, Calista received a letter at breakfast time. It was from Narcissa, and once Calista realised that, she remembered, too late, that she had promised to write to her. A small packet was attached to the letter, too, but Calista reached for the letter first, unfurling it to read.

_Dear Calista,_

_I hope your school year is off to a good start. I know the beginning of term can be quite busy, but I hope you find the time to write to me soon. I would love to hear about your classes, and your friends._

_I know it must seem strange to you, to discover that you have family you didn't know about, until this past Christmas. It is strange for Lucius and I too, but it is a pleasant sort of strange. Lucius asked me to tell you that he regrets treating you somewhat distantly, when we met you. I hope you can understand the way that he was afraid to get his hopes up, when your father told us you were the same child that we all thought was lost. We both want you to know that you are part of our family, now._

_Draco asked me to tell you that he has managed to brew Bubble-Breath potion by himself. He had a wonderful time showing the results off to his friend, Vincent._

_I don't know if you like to wear earrings or not, but I found a pair while I was shopping the other day that match the buttons on your robes, so I'm sending them to you. I hope you like them._

_We'll talk more at the holidays, but I wanted to make sure that you knew that I meant it when I invited you to write to me. There are some things that a young girl cannot speak to her father about, and I want you to feel that you can speak with me, in such cases. If you find the time, please write me back soon._

_Your Loving Aunt,_

_Narcissa_

Calista opened the packet that had come with the letter. Inside, a pair of small silver-coloured snake earrings shone brightly. Knowing Narcissa, Calista suspected they actually  _were_  made of silver. They were perhaps an inch long, and attached to silver hooks so they would dangle off of her earlobes. She put them in the pocket of her robes, and once she had finished her breakfast, she went to the lavatory off of the Slytherin common room to try them on, using the looking glass hung over the sinks.

She still had the small silver studs she had gotten her ears pierced with, two Christmases ago. The only other earrings she had owned, until this point, were the ones from Olivia, and though she hadn't thrown them away, she refused to wear them. She took the studs out of her earlobes, and threaded the small silver hooks of the snake earrings in their place.

She turned her head from side to side to look at them; she thought, actually, that they looked quite cool. Then she looked at herself dead on in the glass, and realised that she had forgotten to scowl at herself, to avert her eyes as quickly as possible from her reflection.

Experimentally, she twisted her face into her customary scowl. There,  _now_  she looked like someone she wanted to look quickly away from. She relaxed her features again. Well. She wasn't pretty, not like Olivia or that blasted Endria, but she supposed she wasn't repulsive, either, not with her face clean, and her hair cut in the stylish way Narcissa had ordered, and with the pretty silver earrings dangling; they did compliment the coiled-up snake buttons on her robes, Narcissa had been right about that.

The door opened, and Calista looked hastily away from the mirror, looking to see who had come in. She prepared herself to sneer, in case it was Olivia.

But it was only Emily. The other girl met her gaze, and smiled tentatively. "Hi, Calista."

"Hey," Calista responded, unsure of her status with Emily these days. They hadn't spoken much since the beginning of term.

"I like your earrings."

"Oh. Thanks. My aunt just sent them."

"So…" Emily glanced around the lavatory, as if to reassure herself that Calista was the only other occupant. "I heard you're taking Arithmancy. How… how is it?"

"It's a lot of work," Calista said, "But it's very interesting. I'm surprised you're not taking it… I mean, it seems like something you'd really like."

"I wanted to," Emily said, "But Olivia convinced me to take Divination, instead, and they're at the same time."

"Divination?" Calista wrinkled her nose. "I heard that Trelawny's a hack. Marcus said she just wants people to predict their own deaths all the time."

"Yeah," Emily admitted, with a small laugh, "I guess that's pretty much true. Olivia likes it, though. She keeps saying she sees things, you know, in tea leaves and such. I don't know if she really does or not."

"Oh." Calista could feel herself scowling. Just Olivia's name did that to her, lately.

"I… I wish you and she could be friends again," Emily ventured, "I… I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Calista said.

"We could… we could still be friends at summer break," Emily suggested, "And just pretend we're not when we're at school."

Calista frowned. "I guess I'm not good at that kind of thing," she said, "I think… well, I think if you're my friend, then you're my friend, and if you're not, then…" she trailed off, and shrugged. "You're not."

She slipped past Emily, reached for the doorknob.

"It's just not  _fair_ ," Emily said, behind her. "I want to be friends with  _both_  of you."

Calista paused, the door partway open, and looked back at her sometimes-friend. "Em… I don't care if you're friends with her, or not. I just can't be."

"But I  _can't_  be friends with you, unless you're friends with  _her_ , don't you see that?"

"No," Calista said, firmly. "I don't see that. I'm not the one telling you you have to choose."

She waited, but Emily didn't say anything else. Calista pushed the door open and left.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

_Dear Aunt Narcissa,_

_Thank you for the earrings. I really like them, and they do match my robes. You were right about those, too. Girls at school always ask me where I got them._

_I'm sorry I forgot to write to you sooner. I have a lot of classes this year, but I like most of them, so it's not so bad. The only one I really hate is Flying, I guess. I'm just no good at it. I can't wait until I learn to Apparate, then no one will bother me about it anymore._

_Tell Draco I'm really happy he got the potion right all by himself. I'll tell my dad, I bet he'll be happy, too. I think Draco will really like it once he gets to Hogwarts, I can show him around the castle and introduce him to people that I know. I hope he's in Slytherin with me._

_I'll try to remember to write to you more._

_Calista_


	5. Chapter 5

Calista and Percy sat across from each other at a study table in the library, a small white mouse frozen on the tabletop between them, Calista's Transfiguration book open to an image of a silver snuffbox.

Calista waved her wand, and the mouse changed into - well, a snuffbox with whiskers, ears, and a tail.

Percy waved his own wand, returning it to its original state, and before it could scurry away, Calista sent another Freezing Charm at it.

"No, no, not like that," Percy said, "You want it to look like the picture in your book."

"Oh, I do?" Calista said sarcastically, "I thought I was  _supposed_  to end up with a tail. Gee, that solves all my problems. I guess I don't need a tutor anymore."

Percy looked pained. "You're being rude again," he reminded her, plaintively.

She scowled, retort on the tip of her tongue, but she knew he was right, and she had resolved to try to be less of a prat, just like she had told Sofia and Eva.

"Well," Calista said, instead of what she had been about to, "You could be a little more helpful, you know. Of course it's supposed to look like the picture in the book, it's not like I don't  _know_  that."

"Okay," Percy said, his face pinkening slightly. "Try clearing your mind, like Professor McGonagall says, and  _really_  picture the snuffbox while you cast."

"That's what I've been trying to do," she said, but it was difficult. She could shove all of her surface thoughts aside, behind the second barrier in her mind, but they kept popping back up in the forefront. There were so many things… the Arithmancy homework she hadn't finished yet, the utter embarrassment of her latest flying lesson, the smarmy looks Olivia was always shooting her in Transfiguration class, the way she felt oddly standoffish with her father the last few days, after their emotional conversation in his kitchen… and then, there was the fact that, on her way here, she had walked by Marcus and Endria Folland, whispering about something in the corridor… she felt her face form another angry frown when she thought about  _that_.

She took a deep breath, shoved everything behind a barrier again, and lifted her wand, ready to try again -

_Thud!_

She started, as a book came from seemingly nowhere, and slammed into the wall next to their study table.

"What the -" Calista and Percy were on her feet, wands ready.

"Do you know where that came from?" Percy asked. Calista shook her head.

And then another book flew towards them; Calista ducked. this time, though, they had seen it coming from the shelves to their right. Calista stepped over and inspected the shelves.

"There's nothing odd about them," she said, and then another book flew from a few shelves over, flapping through the air and landing on the floor.

"Where's Madam Pince?" Percy asked, craning his neck and looking all around for her; but for once, she didn't appear to be in the library.

Then, Calista heard something. It was a faint, breathy, crackly sort of sound, and it was coming from the other side of the bookcase. She narrowed her eyes, and looked at Percy.

"There's someone behind the shelves," she said, and as she did, a burst of laughter erupted from the same general area she'd heard the other noise coming from. Then, twin mops of messy red hair popped up over the top of the bookshelves, both faces beneath them laughing heartily.

Percy's face turned beet-red, and he lowered his wand, setting his hands at his hips.

"You two!" he shouted, "Have been nothing but trouble since you arrived here - how dare you? We're  _studying_ , Fred, I'm  _tutoring_. This is very serious work!"

"Ah, c'mon Perce," one of the boys said, laughter fading to a mere chuckle as a grin spread across his face. "We're just having a bit of fun."

"Harassing students working on academics is a 'bit of fun'?"

"Well, yeah."

"You could have  _injured_  one of us," Percy said, indignantly, "As it is, you've likely damaged all of these books - look, that one's on the  _floor_ , George, how can you be so careless? I'll write home to Mother about this!"

Both boys emerged from behind the bookcase, affecting contrition.

"Gee, Perce, we're really sorry," one of the boys, the one he had called George said, with mock sincerity.

"Yeah," Fred said, "Please don't throw the book at us."

"We'll turn over a new leaf," George added.

"Take a page from your book," Fred said.

"We're shelving our bad behaviour-"

"It's long overdue-"

Calista glanced at Percy; he was still positively steaming, so she bit back the smile that was trying to find its way to her face. She hated the two of them already, for bothering her father, of course - not least of all because he'd taken it out on  _her_  at first - but even she had to admit their wordplay was pretty funny.

"We're going to start a new chapter, Perce."

"So there's no need to go cataloging our sins for Mum." Fred finished. The twins exchanged grins.

"You should have thought of that," Percy said, refusing to be cajoled, "Before you decided to  _assault_  myself and another student."

"We did no such thing," Fred said, "We missed you on purpose."

"Yeah," George agreed, "If you want me to prove it, stand still, I'll make sure I get you this time." He raised his wand.

"No!" Percy bellowed, just as Madam Pince finally made an appearance. She glared at Percy, then at each of them in turn. "Out!" she shrieked, when she noticed the books on the floor. She lowered her voice to a forceful whisper. "All of you, out, now!"

"But we weren't doing anything wrong," Percy said, appealing to the pinched-looking librarian, "Calista and I were only studying, it's these two that were-"

" _Out!_ " she repeated, in a very loud whisper, as if that would somehow restore the sanctity of the library.

Calista grabbed her textbook, and reached for her still-frozen mouse by the tail. The charm broke just as she did so, and it began to squirm and squeak frantically. She fumbled for her wand, but the librarian was ushering them out, and she had her textbook balanced in her other arm. The mouse sunk its sharp little teeth into her hand, and she let go of it quickly. It scurried away, disappearing underneath a set of shelves.

"Oops," Calista managed, as the librarian rounded on her. "And  _you_ , releasing  _beasts_  into my library!"

She was still whisper-shouting, her face contorted. Calista didn't mean to laugh, but it just sort of happened. The situation was just so  _absurd_ , and once she had started, it only got worse. Madam Pince advanced towards her, whispering fiercely.

"You think it's amusing, do you, to defile the library? To send rodents in to chew the books to shreds, to throw them all over the the floor-"

"Hang on," one of the twins said, "Throw the  _rodents_  all over the floor? I agree, that's pretty cold."

Madam Pince drew herself up straight, then. "That's it," she whispered forcefully, "I'm going to speak to your Heads of House! I know who  _you_  are," she said, looking at Calista, and then at Percy, "And you. I thought you two knew better."

Calista pressed her lips together to keep from laughing again; it was just the way she was  _whispering_. The librarian rounded on the two younger boys. "What are  _your_  names, then? Go on, out with it!"

"Well," Fred said, in a loud stage whisper, "I'm Seymour Butts, and this is-"

"Hugh," George said, and he did not whisper, but he did stick his hand out, and grab Madam Pince's in a hearty handshake, before she quite knew what was happening. "Hugh Jass. Pleasure to meet you, but we really must be going."

Calista snorted, as the four of them were herded out into the corridor. They walked a few doors down, and Calista waited until they were out of earshot to look at George skeptically. "Hugh Jass, huh?"

George waved his hand carelessly. "Improvisation. If I had more time, I could have come up with something much better."

Percy was positively fuming, and he rounded on his brothers. "Look what you've done, now you've gone and gotten  _me_  in trouble. This could ruin my chances of becoming Prefect in my fifth year! I'm definitely going to write to Mother, now. And you, Calista, I never expected that you would join in their antics, releasing that mouse like that…"

"Excuse me?" Calista glared at Percy. "I didn't  _release_  anything, the damn thing bit me and I dropped it, look -"

She held her hand out, displaying a bite mark that was dotted with little beads of blood.

Percy winced. "You should go to the Hospital Wing, before that gets infected."

Calista shrugged. "Maybe, yeah." She wiped her hand on her robes carelessly. "Anyway," she said, looking back at the twins. "You two need to stop messing around in Potions class. If I have to deal with my dad being annoyed because of your rubbish again, I'll hex the both of you."

"Calista, you can't-" Percy began, but Fred - or George, Calista wasn't quite certain - interrupted.

"Wait a bleeding minute, did you say your  _dad_? That's you, then? Snape's get?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I prefer Calista."

"I can't believe anyo-" the other twin began, but the first one elbowed him, and raised an eyebrow at Calista.

"Aren't you supposed to be in third year? Why are you in our Flying class?"

She affixed a scowl to her face, the most dangerous one she could muster. She remembered that Sofia and Eva had told her the twins were the ones laughing at her during the first lesson. "That's none of your concern."

The twins exchanged a grin, and both of them broke into laughter.

"Oy, did you see that -"

"Just like him!"

"Do it again, that was brilliant!"

"No," one of them said, shaking his head, "Tell us we have detention, go on, do it."

"We're  _all_ going to get detention if we don't go to Professor McGonagall, and tell her what really happened," Percy said, cutting Calista off before she could say what looked, by her expression, to be an unfriendly thing to say, "We'll all go, right now. You two can come clean -"

George snorted, not unlike Calista had moments ago.

"Actually," Fred said, "We have urgent business elsewhere, don't we, George?"

"Is it that time already? By me - George, get it? - we've got to go."

They disappeared before Percy could stop them, nearly running down the corridor. Percy looked at Calista, anxiety writing itself into every freckle on his face.

"What are we going to do now? Do you suppose our Heads of House will believe us if we tell them the truth?"

Calista raised her eyebrows. "They'd better," she said, "I meant what I said. If your obnoxious little brothers get me into trouble with my dad  _twice_ , I really will hex them both."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When Calista entered Arithmancy class, prepared to take her usual seat with Percy, Penny, and Amelia, she stopped short. Emily Yaxley was at the front of the class, talking to Professor Vector. Calista found her seat, but instead of sitting in it, she hovered nearby, hoping to catch Emily's attention.

She was speaking to the professor for quite some time, though; and she was writing a lot of things down, what sounded to be a list of the assignments they'd been given in class so far. By the time she was finished, Emily only had time to spare Calista the briefest of glances and a half-smile before she took an empty seat several rows back.

Professor Vector began speaking; there was no chance to speak to Emily  _then_ , not unless she wanted to get herself kicked out of the class. She was pronouncing her disappointment in the effort that most students had put into their last homework assignment. Calista felt her stomach knot; she hoped she'd done all right. She and Amelia had worked together again, and she  _thought_  they'd gotten everything right - they'd been at it for hours, anyway. As it turned out, working together on the assignments didn't really make them go much  _quicker_ , but it did make them a lot more enjoyable. Especially working together with Amelia, in particular. She was finding that the Ravenclaw girl had a quick wit, and just enough moodiness to make Calista feel like she could be herself around her, much like she could with Marcus.

Marcus… no, she was definitely  _not_  going to think about him just now, nor the fact that he had offered to take her flying again, when he'd heard that she still wasn't doing much better with her flying lessons. And most assuredly, she would not think about the way her insides felt all fluttery and queasy when she considered the possibility of flying with him again.

Feeling her face start to heat up in the middle of her Arithmancy classroom was enough of a wake-up; she pushed all of that from her mind, and focused on the lecture, taking perhaps more notes than she normally would have, just so it would be sufficient to distract her mind from wandering again.

When the bell rang at the end of class, Calista walked quickly over to Emily, catching her just as she was about to leave the classroom.

"Hey," she said, "You're taking Arithmancy now?"

Emily nodded, and smiled weakly. "Yeah… Olivia's not happy with me dropping Divination, mind you. But I don't have one smidge of the Sight, I never saw a thing, in tea leaves or a crystal ball, or even in my imagination. I wrote to my mum about it, and she told me I should just switch to the class I really wanted to take."

"Well, good," Calista said, "This class is more useful, anyway. Divination sounds like a load of rubbish."

Calista settled into pace beside Emily; not a second later, she was wondering if it had been worth it.

"Yeah… do you suppose Olivia will get over being cross with my for switching, though?"

Calista rolled her eyes. "Who cares?"

" _I_ do, Calista, come off it. She's still my friend, even if you don't like her."

"Yeah?" Calista challenged, "D'you say that to her, too? 'Calista's still my friend'?"

Emily blushed. "Calista…"

"Of course you don't," Calista pushed on, suddenly quite cross. "Because Olivia's the bloody  _princess_  of Slytherin, and I'm just… what was it she called me? An 'ugly misfit little freak' or something like that?"

Emily stopped short, and turned to face Calista directly, her face pink. "It's easy for you, isn't it?" she said, in a low, urgent voice. "You don't  _need_  Portia and Olivia like I do. You don't have to fit in, because your dad's a professor, and Head of House besides, and if anyone gives  _you_  too much trouble, they know who's going to come 'round demanding answers, don't they?"

Calista narrowed her eyes. "That's… are you mental? Have the past two years been Olivia  _not_  giving me trouble? And I've only  _ever_  mentioned my dad once to get her off my case, and that was this year."

"You don't have  _mention_  him," Emily said, passionately, "Everyone knows who you are, and if you think for one second that they don't, why do you suppose it is that you're the only Slytherin hanging around with a bunch of people from other houses?"

"Uhm," Calista said, feeling her temper rise further, "Because I'm not a stupid, prejudiced prat like you're starting to sound like? Because I don't  _care_  what house my friends are in, as long as they're nice to me?"

"No," Emily said, keeping her voice much lower than Calista's was, "It's because no one dares to give you a hard time for it, not to your face. Percy Weasley? Come on, do you really think people aren't saying things about  _that_?"

"Olivia says things all the time. And anyway, why  _should_  anyone say anything? He's  _nice_ , when he isn't being all stuffy, and he's one of the top students in our year. What's wrong with him?"

"Look, Calista, I don't want to argue with you, I really don't." She peered over Calista's shoulder, probably to see if anyone was listening to them. " _I_  don't care who you're friends are, but some other people do, and it's not fair for you to… to  _judge_  me because I can't make the same choices you can. My dad doesn't teach here. If anyone gives  _me_  a hard time, I just have to deal with it myself."

"That's not true," Calista said, "You can go to my dad just the same as I can. He's  _Slytherin's_ Head of House, you know, not just mine."

"It's not the same, Calista. You have to see that." Emily's voice was coming almost pleadingly now, and that annoyed Calista just as much as everything she'd said.

"Maybe you don't  _want_  it to be the same," she said, and even to her own ears, the tone of her voice was scornful, even a bit vicious, "So you have an excuse for being Olivia's spineless little puppy."

"That's cruel," Emily said quietly, but Calista had already stormed off.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

The first Hogsmeade weekend came on the heels of Calista's argument with Emily, and in light of everything Emily had said, it felt almost defiant to meet up with Percy, Oliver Wood, Penny, and Amelia in the entrance hall. Calista reflected that she could have done without Oliver's company, but she was pleased with the rest of it, so she didn't do much more than scowl at him a bit.

Percy nudged her; evidently he had seen the look she'd shot Oliver. "Be  _nice_ ," he reminded her, in a whisper. She scowled again, but half-heartedly. The five of them set off together.

When they arrived in Hogsmeade, mostly as small clusters of students separated into little groups of monochromatic robes, but a few mixed groups like the one Calista was part of, the crowd split along the High Street, and students spilled into the shops. A good deal of them went to Honeydukes, and quite a few of the lads headed into Spintwitches' Sporting Shop, which Oliver looked at longingly, but Percy took him by the elbow. "Come on, Oliver, the plan was to go to the Three Broomsticks  _first_ , before the rush, and check out the shops after, don't you remember?"

"Do you suppose they have the new Nimbus yet?" Oliver was still craning his neck in the direction of the shop.

The five of them headed into the Three Broomsticks, and found a table in the corner that would fit all of them comfortably. They had managed to beat the rush, but only just as it turned out. Students streamed in after them, and by the time Oliver and Amelia had returned with five butterbeers, all of the other tables were full.

Amelia slid into the seat beside Calista, and poked her in the ribs.

"Ow!" Calista scowled. "What was that for?"

"Look," Amelia leaned towards her, and spoke quietly. "Up at the bar - isn't that your friend, from the Quidditch team? She was just trying to order firewhiskey, I heard her."

Calista followed her gaze; Kim Avery, Ethan Briggs, Conor Quinn, and Peter Boyle were indeed hovering near the bar, together as usual.

"She's eighteen now, I think," Calista said. "Maybe some of her friends are, too."

"I dunno," Amelia said, sliding a butterbeer over to her. "But Madam Rosmerta told her she won't sell it to anyone in Hogwarts student robes - oh my gosh, look!"

Kim was stripping her Hogwarts robes off, now; underneath, she had on Muggle clothes, jeans and a sweater. She folded her school robes over her arm, and looked back at the pretty woman behind the bar expectantly. The crowd around her laughed; Calista could hear the murmur of it from all the way back in the corner, and more and more people were paying attention now, pointing her way. Some of them appeared to be asking their neighbors what was going on.

Madam Rosmerta looked back at Kim, and Calista couldn't quite make out her expression from the distance she was at, but she threw her arms up in the air; then she tilted her head back and laughed, loudly. She said something, and then she turned away, opened a bottle, and poured a very small amount into a glass. She slid it across the bar at Kim, who lifted it up victoriously, turning around to show it off to the entire pub.

"Wicked," Amelia said, "Think she can get us some?"

Oliver grinned, but Calista and Penelope made nearly identical faces at Amelia; when Percy saw Penelope's, he hastened to copy it.

"Er," Percy said, quickly, "That's… that's an awful thing to say, Amelia. Or Calista. Whoever that was."

Calista snorted. "Did you even hear what she said?"

Percy turned pink. "Well… not quite, but I got the gist of it."

"Well, you don't all need to have kittens over it," Amelia said, "I was joking, wasn't I?"

Kim had downed the contents of the glass, and was wheedling for another one. Penelope made another disapproving face, but this one was directed across the pub at the older Slytherin girl, rather than at Amelia.

"I think we've been here long enough," she said, "Perhaps now is a good time to visit some of the shops."

Percy nodded quickly, and rose, but Amelia rolled her eyes. "You're so uptight, Penny. I haven't even finished my butterbeer yet… look, Calista hasn't, either. We're not ready to go, are we?"

Calista glanced towards the bar; Kim had procured another glass.

"Which store were you thinking of going to?" she asked Penelope.

"Spintwitches'," Oliver said, immediately, and Penelope frowned. "I was thinking of Scrivenshaft's, actually. I could use some more quills; I've been taking pages and pages of notes in Arithmancy."

"Or perhaps we could visit the bookshop," Percy put in.

Calista lifted her butterbeer and drained most of the rest of it in one long sip.

"Bookshop," she agreed, setting it down.

"Don't I get an opinion?" Amelia asked, "I'd rather go to Zonko's. Or better yet, stay here, and watch that Slytherin girl get herself in trouble."

"Kim's eighteen -" Calista started again, defensive of her friend, but Penelope interrupted, coming around the table to take Amelia by the elbow.

"Since when do you not like going to bookstores?" she asked her housemate. "Think of all the horrible jinxes you can read about," she added distastefully.

"Oh, that's true. I can do that." Amelia grinned, and drained her own butterbeer as well. "Bookshop it is, then."

"'Horrible jinxes'?" Calista echoed, once they had pressed through the crowd and gone outside. It had been a bit uncomfortable for Calista, who still didn't like to be caught in large crowds, didn't like being touched unexpectedly. She found the chill of the autumn air welcome after the din of the crowded pub.

"Yeah," Amelia said, "Describing them to Penny and watching her freak out is one of my favourite pastimes. When we were first years, I showed her a picture of someone with with a face full of boils and she nearly vomited right in the common room, it was brilliant."

"Brilliant?" Penelope sniffed, as they all set off in the direction of the bookshop, "It was vulgar and rude. You're lucky I still decided to be friends with you. I-"

"The Furnunculus curse?" Calista cut in. "I cast that on Portia Macnair, first year. It does look pretty bad."

"You  _hexed your housemate?_ " Percy said, horrified.

Calista opened her mouth, but Amelia unexpectedly came to her defence. "Oh, come on, Perce," Amelia said, "If it was that Macnair cow, I'm betting she had it coming. Didn't she?"

Calista nodded. "She did. Prissy, stupid, smarmy little -"

Amelia grinned widely.

"Nevertheless," Percy interrupted, frowning as he turned his head to look at the pair of them, "That wasn't the proper way to handle the situation, whatever it was. I hope you know that, now, Calista. You should have gone to your Head of House-"

"I  _know_ ," Calista said, irritated. "Speaking of my  _Head of House_ , you sound just like him right now. That's what  _he_  said, when he gave me detention for it -  _two years ago_ , Percy, so drop it, all right?"

"All right, all right," Percy said, but he looked rather inflated at being told he sounded like a professor, even if it was likely his least favourite one.

"The hell with Percy," Amelia muttered to Calista quietly, "I hate that girl. I'm glad you did it; we would probably have been friends loads sooner if I knew you did."

"What did she do to  _you_?"

Amelia huffed. "She… you know what? I don't feel like talking about it. Let's just say I have my reasons for wishing she'd disappear off the face of the earth, all right?"

They had reached the bookshop. It was substantially less crowded than the rest of the shops on the High Street, but when they entered, it was immediately apparent that the crowd that did exist within were disproportionately clothed in blue-trimmed robes.

"Wow," Calista remarked, "This feels like Arithmancy class; practically no one but Ravenclaws."

Penelope preened a bit; Amelia grabbed Calista's hand and led her into a dim corner of the shop with a sign posted above it warning young children away. Calista started, but managed to keep from jerking her hand back from Amelia's.

"Here we go," Amelia said, reaching for a thin green volume, "' _Horrifying Hexes for the Hardly Human_ ', this sounds good, doesn't it?"

Calista peered over her shoulder as she flipped through the pages.

"That's boring," she commented, after Amelia had gone through several, "I already know all those spells. Is there a better one?"

She started to peruse the books, when she felt Amelia close by her side again. "Hang on," Amelia said, voice low, "What d'you mean, you already know all these spells? I haven't heard of half of them."

Calista glanced at her friend, and shrugged. "Kim and her friends told me about a lot of them," she said, "Plus my dad has a lot of books…"

"Wicked," Amelia said, for the second time that day, "Can you teach me some?"

"Well, I haven't actually  _cast_  most of them," Calista admitted, "I just know of them."

"Well, we can try to learn them together," Amelia said, still quietly, but with enthusiasm brimming over the edges of her words, "Practise, you know? Just… we can't let Penny or Percy find out, they'd go squealing to Flitwick or someone and ruin it."

"How would that work? We hex each other, or something?"

"Yeah, why not? We can undo them quickly."

"I'm not hexing you," Calista said, firmly, after a brief moment of consideration. "I like you."

"But if I  _ask_  you to-"

"No way. What if I can't undo it properly? We'd definitely get in trouble if we had to go to the Hospital Wing. Besides, I don't want to hurt you… and I don't really want you hurting me, either."

Amelia frowned. "I guess you're right," she said, reluctantly. "But I want to  _learn_  curses and things, you know? Not just Shield Charms and all that, but real offensive spells."

"You do?" Calista raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Mostly everyone I've ever heard say anything like that is in Slytherin. Or was - my uncle says we should be learning proper Dark magic all the time."

"Yeah, well… how are the rest of us supposed to stand up to all those Slytherins with their Dark magic?" Amelia countered, "I bet Mum and Dad are teaching them all at home, and  _I_  for one don't want to be casting pretty little charms against someone trying to cut my head off, or something."

"I don't even… 'all those Slytherins', excuse me? And just who wants to cut your head off?"

Amelia waved her hand. "You know what I meant. And I didn't mean  _you_ , you're not an insufferable snob like the rest of them - well, maybe you're half of one." She grinned.

"Slytherins aren't all bad," Calista said, irritation creeping into her voice, "Kim's nice, the one who was drinking firewhiskey, and the other seventh years, most of them are decent. And Marcus Flint, Gemma Farley, and some of the first years, Sofia and Eva and Alex… even Emily Yaxley's not bad, once you get her away from Olivia. Anyway, you lot have got Elyse Briggs, and she's a right pain in the arse."

"Yeah, well," Amelia made a sour face. "At least Elyse has never-" she stopped, pressed her mouth into a thin line, and shook her head. "Never mind, okay, Calista? I was just saying, I'd like to learn some curses, just in case."

"Well, I would too," Calista said, "But I don't want to practise them on each other, not without someone around to do the countercurses if we muck it up - hey, what about a Dueling Club? Sofia Lima mentioned that her dad was in one here, once - Flitwick ran it. Maybe we can get him to start one up again."

"Yeah," Amelia said, with growing enthusiasm. "He might do that - especially if I can get Penny to as him, she's one of his favourites."

"Uhm," Calista said, a bit awkwardly, "I could… I could probably go with her to ask him. I think he kind of… I think he likes me, too. He always tells my dad I should've been in Ravenclaw."

"I wish you were," Amelia said, "Then we'd have the same room, and stuff. We could nick food from the kitchens and hang out in the common room until really late."

"Well, you could be in Slytherin," Calista countered, "And then we could hex Portia when she sleeps - there's loads of curses we could use, look…" She grinned, and pulled another volume from the shelves.

Calista leafed through it, and showed a page to Amelia. "Look, 'Entrail-Expelling Curse'. Conor or Peter told me about this one, once. And - ooh, 'Expulso', Kim cast that on a turkey once and got stuffing in Elyse Briggs' ears -"

Amelia giggled. "Really? I want to learn it. Hey - what's that one?"

Calista huddled close to her, and they pored over the book, until Penelope dragged them away.

"I should have known I'd find you two here," she said, radiating disapproval. "Come on, we're going to Dervish and Banges next, before we have to go back to school for dinner."

"I'd rather go to Zonko's," Amelia put in.

"Yeah, me too," Calista said, even though she actually would have rather gone to Dervish and Banges, or perhaps Potage's Cauldron Shop. She was having fun with Amelia, and it made her feel generous towards the other girl's whims.

Penelope huffed; Percy caught up to them. Oliver Wood was nowhere in sight. Calist supposed he must have slunk off to the Quidditch shop after all.

"Fine," Penelope said, "You two go to the  _joke store_ , and Percy and I will go on without you."

"Sounds good to me," Amelia said brightly, looping her arm through Calista's. They separated, Percy and Penelope going up the street one way, and Amelia and Calista continuing on in the other direction.

Soon enough, Calista wished they had just gone with Penelope and Percy, though; on their way, they nearly ran right into Olivia, Emily, and Portia. Calista tried to steer Amelia around them, but Portia noticed them, and sneered.

"Oh, look," she said loudly, causing Olivia and Emily to turn their heads, "The freak's found a new friend, another freak just like her."

"Oh, wow, Portia, that was original," Calista shot back, rolling her eyes. Her arm was still linked with Amelia's, and she felt her friend's pace slow. "Been waiting all year to use that one, have you?"

Portia opened her mouth, but Olivia cut her off. "Let it go, Portia," she said, firmly and coldly, "It's not worth it."

It would have mercifully ended there, with Calista and Amelia picking up their pace again and striding past, but then Olivia called after them, cruelly.

"You should wash your arm, Calista. You're touching filth."

Calista was the one who slowed, this time.

"Forget it," Amelia muttered, her round face reddening. "Let's just keep going-"

But Calista could see a cluster of teachers approaching; it looked like Professor McGonagall and Professor Vector, and another one, a man Calista didn't know; she thought he might be the Muggle Studies professor. She waited a few seconds, until they had drawn closer. Emily's words replayed, suddenly, in her mind.

_You don't have to fit in, because your dad's a professor, and Head of House besides, and if anyone gives you too much trouble, they know who's going to come 'round demanding answers, don't they?_

She didn't know if it was true; didn't think it was, but if she was wrong? Well, getting her housemate in trouble with the head of Gryffindor house would certainly irk the Slytherins enough to provoke some of them to say something about it, and if they did, then she'd be proving Emily wrong, wouldn't she? And if it  _was_  true, if she had her father's position as an unwanted shield… well, then, it really wouldn't matter if she pissed her housemates off, would it?

Calista turned to the trio, just as the professors were walking by.

"What was that, Olivia?" she said, quite loudly, "Did you say something about  _my friend_  that you want to repeat?"

The professors glanced over, McGonagall slowing her pace slightly. Olivia flushed pink, widened eyes landing on the cluster of teachers.

"No," she said, "I didn't say anything."

"Good," Calista said, in the same loud tone; once the teachers had moved on, McGonagall casting them a wary glance behind her, Olivia's eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth, but Calista cut her off, lowering her own voice.

"Make sure you  _don't_ ," she warned, "Because one way or another, I'm not letting you get away with it."

"Oh, are you threatening me, now?"

"I guess I am," Calista said, baldly.

Olivia forced a derisive little laugh through her nose. "That's the worst mistake you've ever made, right there."

"No" Calista said, "My worst mistake was wasting my time ever trying to be friends with a snotty li-"

She was interrupted, by a pair of arms weighing heavily on her shoulders; she would have started, if she hadn't been suddenly bogged down.

She heard a hiccup, and then felt warm breath by her ear.

"Oi, Snapelet. Whassgoing on?" It was Kim Avery, although it took Calista a moment to place her voice; it sounded a little heavy, oddly slurred. "Is your little…" she lifted one arm off Calista, twirled it in the air illustratively, gesturing with it towards Olivia and her sidekicks. " _friend_ giving you a hard time again?"

Portia stepped forward, addressing Kim eagerly. "Calista's the one causing trouble," she said, "She just tried to get us in trouble with teachers…  _Us, her own hosuemates_."

"Well," Kim drawled, astutely, "Did you deserve it?"

Portia blanched; Olivia elbowed Portia, which caused Kim, inexplicably to laugh; Calista flinched; it was loud in her ear.

"It was nothing," Olivia said sweetly, "We're going, now."

She pulled Portia and Emily aside, brushing past Calista, Kim, and Amelia; but Olivia couldn't resist shooting one more poisonous look at Calista as she went by.

"Hey!" Kim yelled, and Calista winced again. She straightened, lifting her weight off Calista, and facing Olivia again. "I saw that… Ssnapelet'ss my friend, mkay? So you don't… you don't mess with her, unless you want to mess with  _me_."

She grinned, conspiratorially, leaning forward; Calista thought she nearly stumbled. "An' you don't wanna mess with me."

"Oh my god," Olivia said, "Are you drunk?"

Kim considered this. "Maybe." She hiccupped again.

"Then it's awfully rich of you to threaten me with anything, isn't it?" She smirked, so her meaning could be made clear, and then she stalked away, Portia and Emily in tow, and nose in the air. Emily cast one regretful look back, but Calista was too focused on Kim to see it.

"She's going to tell a professor," Calista warned.

Kim shrugged. "I don't give a ssshit. I'm old enough."

"I still don't think -"

Kim interrupted her again, with a hand held up importantly. "Ssnapelet. Shut up."

Calista obeyed, and Kim spoke again.

"What was that little" She twirled her hand again "Blonde bitch doing, anyway? Sshe trying to get you in trouble again?"

Calista became aware of Amelia sidling away; she had been quiet so far, ever since Olivia had insulted her.

"She was giving my friend a hard time," Calista said, nodding to Amelia.

Kim seemed to notice Amelia for the first time. "You're the friend, then?" she deduced, looking speculatively - albeit a bit drunkly - at the Ravenclaw girl.

Amelia nodded, uncomfortably. She looked worried.

"Don't worry," Kim reassured her, "I won't get in trouble. Probably. Much." She chuckled, as if she found this all quite amusing. She looked between Amelia and Calista. "What was she saying, then? Something about Daddy having all kinds of money, I bet? Huh. My dad has money too, but I don't walk around like a bloody simpering snot about it, do I?"

This surprised Calista; it was true that Kim had never seemed to be particularly well-off. She never seemed poor, either; she just didn't seem to care.

"No," Calista said, "That's not what she was saying. She was… she seems to have a problem with the fact that Amelia and I are friends."

"Why? 'Cos it means she can't weasel you back to being her sidekick, hm? Or 'cos you're a Ravenclaw?" She shifted while she was talking, transitioning from addressing Calista to addressing Amelia.

"Uhm," Amelia said, and she was as quiet as Calista had ever seen her; she blushed, and stuttered. "I… it was something like that. I should go now, my other friends…" she glanced at Calista. "Penny and Percy, you know?"

But Kim's face had lit up; she raised a finger. " _I_  know what it iss," she said loudly, "You're a Muggle-born, aren't you?"

Amelia was beet-red now, and she started to back away. Calista reached for her half-heartedly, and missed; but Kim strode forward, and pulled Amelia back by the shoulders.

"Don' go anywhere, s'okay. I'm not gonna hex you, or anything." She looked at Calista. "Ssnaplet, this girl a good friend to you?"

Calista nodded. "Yes, she is. Loads better than that stupid priss-"

"S'what I thought," Kim said, looking back at Amelia. "Sso here's the thing, Ravenclaw girl. I don' like one of your Perfects…" she hiccupped, "Er, I mean Prefects… Elyse. Stupid, stuffed-up prat… but it's not 'cos she's half Muggle, 'cos my boyfriend is too. Her twin.  _Completely_  different people. I could say maybe he's got the wizard half and ssshe'ss got the Muggle part… but that's just nasty, yeah? I don't care, it'ss…"

She stopped, and shook her head. "Okay." she said, taking a breath, "Nevermind. It made more ssense in my head. I think… I think that lasst shot juss' hit me. Ugh. What I'm saying is, if you're Sssnapelet's friend, and you're not a prissy little bitch, then I don't have a problem with you." She hiccupped again, and put her hand to her mouth.

"Oh, fuck," she slurred, lowering her hand after a pause of several seconds. "I'm going'ta go vomit, now. 'Bye."

She loped off, in the direction she'd come from. Calista wondered what had happened to her friends, but then she saw her rejoin them, a little way down the road. She had her hand to her mouth again, and they were giving her a wide berth, as they guided her down an alley between shops.

"Wow," Amelia said, and Calista looked at her. "Is she always like that?"

"What, drunk? I've never seen it before."

"Hm." Amelia looked at Calista, up and down, as if measuring something. Calista was just about to snap at her, ask her what she was looking at, but then Amelia smiled, and the scrutiny ceased. "Come on, let's go get another butterbeer. Maybe if we drink it really fast,  _we_  can get drunk."

Calista snorted, but followed after Amelia, back towards Honeydukes. "Yeah, that sounds like loads of fun," she said sarcastically, "I haven't vomited in ages, let's get on that."

Amelia laughed, and then glanced sidelong at Calista. "Thanks. For sticking up for me."

"I'm told that's what friends do," Calista said.

Amelia threaded her arm through Calista's again.


	6. Chapter 6

The next month or two of term passed easily for Calista, more easily than school had ever been for her. It wasn't necessarily easy academically - Arithmancy was an immense amount of work, and she was still struggling with Transfiguration… and then, there were her draining Occlumency lessons, and she was still stuck in Flying class, along with one Muggle-born Gryffindor first-year; only the two of them hadn't been able to fly well enough to pass by the end of six weeks. The easy part was, for a change, her social life. She finally felt that she had real friends, people who liked her the way she was, and whom she enjoyed spending time with. It hadn't occurred to her, until she'd become friends with Percy, Amelia, Penelope, and even Sofia and Eva, that maintaining a friendship was supposed to feel like a good thing, a worthwhile thing, and not a stressful drain.

In truth, it was still something of a new sensation for her, to feel positively after spending time with her peers. The strangest part was the willingness she found, little by little, to share just another piece of herself with them, and to realise that they still liked her for seeing it. She had grown so used to building walls, in her mind and in her relationships, that she found the process of dismantling them, even one tiny block at a time, to be unnerving; but it was a pleasant sort of unnerving, like winning a gamble -  _or flying on a broomstick, knowing the boy behind her wouldn't let her fall_  - but no, she wasn't going to think anything like that, no matter what her rebellious brain thought.

She was surprised at how much she liked spending time with Amelia, especially considering they had instantly disliked each other, that first day in Herbology class. Amelia had explained that, too. She'd just been sorted into Ravenclaw, a house which prized intelligence in its students, and she'd wondered if the hat had made a mistake; she was afraid she wasn't smart enough, and the fear had driven her to lash out, tear someone else down. In her first few days at Hogwarts, Amelia had already overheard another Ravenclaw making snide remarks about the Slytherins. Wondering if she really was smart enough to be in Ravenclaw herself, Amelia had decided the safest route was to mimic the other students, and knock down someone from what she had already gathered was the least popular house. Calista had presented a target, and Amelia had seized onto it, in an effort to impress Penelope and cement their friendship. Once she understood how it had happened, Calista had to admit that it sounded an awful lot like the way she had originally tried to impress Olivia by making fun of Percy - except, it turned out that Penelope was actually okay, and Olivia was a manipulative little snot.

Their friendship, though - hers and Amelia's - if anything, it had begun to deepen rapidly since that day in Hogsmeade, when Calista had stuck up for Amelia, and then Kim Avery had come along and drunkenly defended both of them. (As far as Calista knew, Kim had remarkably gone unpunished. She didn't know if Olivia had decided against antagonising the older girl further, or if whatever teacher she'd gone to had decided that the ensuing vomiting and headache had been punishment enough. Or, perhaps, Kim was right, and Hogwarts wouldn't punish her, since she was of legal age, but Calista doubted that was actually the case. It was still against school rules. after all). But it seemed that, on some level, Amelia had been worried about Calista finding out she was Muggle-born; she didn't know that Olivia had already made it clear to her, and that Calista had already decided she didn't care. It was true that Slytherin had garnered a reputation for having a lot of pureblood fanatics, but to say they all were was to say that all of the Gryffindors were as abysmal at Potions as Oliver Wood was, or as hell-bent on rule breaking as Percy's brothers.

Calisa hoped Amelia would see that, just as she was beginning to see that not all of the Ravenclaws were prissy, and not all of the Gryffindors were stupid. And, as it happened, evidently not all of the Hufflepuffs were dull, because there was nothing dull about Tonks' now lime-green hair. Every time Calista saw her in the stands of the Quidditch pitch, she debated revealing the fact that they were cousins, but when she considered the idea of revealing to the entire student body that her mother was none other than the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, she felt an uneasy clenching in her stomach; she wasn't ready for them to know, wasn't willing to test whether or not they'd treat her differently if they knew. There were undoubtedly students at Hogwarts whose families her mother had hurt or torture, whose relatives she had killed. How could Calista expect them  _not_  to shy away from her, in light of that? So she kept it to herself, and hoped, fervently and anxiously, that Olivia would do the same. She hadn't mentioned it again recently, at least. Calista hoped that was a good sign.

As for her own feelings, if Calista  _had_  had any sort of prejudice against Muggle-borns, she was reasonably certain that she was relieved of it now. She liked Amelia, a lot, probably better than she liked any other girls at school - because Amelia was  _funny_ , and smart, and she found that working on Arithmancy homework actually wasn't so bad when they could do it together. And there were the curses, too - they still couldn't cast them, but they had fun going through books and reading about them, and Amelia had been absolutely right about how much fun it was to make Penelope squirm by describing them to her. She just wished they  _were_  in the same house, that Amelia could transfer into Slytherin somehow, because even though Madam Pince had reluctantly allowed Calista back into the library, she couldn't be there after curfew, and Amelia couldn't come back to the common room with her. They made up for it, though. Amelia had started coming to the Gryffindor Quidditch practises with her (Calista was still going for the hot chocolate, and, secretly, for the other kind of warmth she felt inside when she was there, and no one seemed to want her to go away, or shoot her dirty looks) and they often found time in between classes to stop and chat in the corridors.

She was sitting with the Gryffindors in Potions class now, and although Olivia and Portia liked to hiss rude comments at her in the common room, or when they passed each other in the halls, she hadn't faced any other retaliation from her housemates for it. Actually, Percy had begun to separate from Oliver Wood a little bit, and when another of the Gryffindor boys and Wood had both made the Quidditch team this year and had started to sit together in class, Percy sat with Calista instead, and both of them were able to brew their individual potions efficiently, in relative peace and quiet. At first, a few of the Gryffindors had given her some grief for crossing the chasm in between the two houses and sitting in their section, but either Percy had spoken to them, or they simply got used to her, because after a few weeks, it seemed normal enough that they left her alone. She wasn't quite ready to be overly friendly to most of them, but Percy and she had their easy alliance, and the comforting, steady simmer of their cauldrons, and it was legions preferable to suffering through an hour of Olivia's glares and Portia's sabotages while swimming in George Spratt's body odor.

Percy wasn't taking Care of Magical Creatures, though, and that left Calista with no one in that class that she got along with, so she mostly kept to herself - which was a shame, really, because she found herself coming up with witticisms regarding the aged, half-senile Professor Kettleburn that she could share with no one but herself. She wondered if people in the class thought she was daft, half-smiling to herself all the time. The class wasn't actually as fun as she'd expected it to be - she wondered if it would be worth suffering through for a few more years just so she could see a unicorn. Maybe she could convince her father to let her go into the Forbidden Forest and find one… and  _that_  was another thought that made her suppress a snort of amusement, and smile crookedly to herself, because she remembered what he had said, when she'd asked to go into the forest when she was small:

_You're not going into that forest today, or tomorrow, or any day in the foreseeable future. That's why it's called 'Forbidden'._

Later on, the same day she had had that thought in Care of Magical Creatures class, she slipped into her father's office while she knew he was teaching another class. She tore off a small square of parchment, and scribbled a note on it:

_Dad -_

_Is this still the forseeable future? I want to go into the forest._

_-C_

She finished it off with another drawing of a cat, and placed the note in the top drawer of his desk with a smile that, if she had been able to see, she would have described as mischievous, perhaps even a bit spiteful. On second thought, she opened the drawer, retrieved the note, and drew a ridge of fur standing up on the cat's back, and a little cartoon speech bubble that said " _hiss_ ". She grinned, and placed it back on top of his quills. Then she gathered her books, and hurried to Charms class.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

A couple of weeks before Christmas, Calista dreamt about the empty house again, the one with all the sitting rooms, and the dimly-lit staircases. She'd wanted to explore, to see if any of the rooms were something  _other_  than a sitting room, but, just as before, she'd become aware of someone trailing her through the house.

This time, she knew immediately that it was Bellatrix, though she couldn't say for certain if she knew because she could recognise her mother's psychic signature even at a distance, or if she simply knew from experience. She remembered the room at the top of the house, the circular room with the frosted windows, recalled that Bellatrix hadn't been able to reach her in there, and so she tried to run towards it, but her legs were like jelly. She found that when she slowed to a walk, she could manage, so she did that, feeling an urgent pounding in her chest all the while, urging her to hurry. She barricaded herself in the room again, and this time she remembered to put her cloak up against the window in the door; when Bellatrix reached the other side of it, Calista could hear her scratching and tapping at the door, feel it rattling on its hinges, but she knew that as long as she guarded the door, kept the window covered, she should be safe.

It was tiring, though; and though Calista tried to force herself to wake up several times, each time she thought she had done it, she was still in the little round room; each time she wrenched her eyes open, expecting to see her dorm room ceiling above her, she saw only the black of her cloak in front of her face. The light seeping through the glass in all of the other windows in the room slowly brightened; dawn, then. She hadn't been certain before if it was the beginning or the end of the day beyond the frosted glass, had only known that outside, the light was grey and cool.

The door rattled insistently. Calista felt her arms tiring from holding the cloak up, leaned her weight against the door as she held it in place, but Bellatrix didn't seem to be tiring at all. It felt like hours passed, with Calista holding her cloak up to the window, her body pressed against the door to keep it from being forced open, and the door shivering and bucking beneath her like it was a sentient entity. And then, at last, when Calista tried, again, to wake herself up, it must have worked, because she opened her eyes to the cool, grey light of a real dawn, and the ceiling of her dormitory room. She had never been so grateful to see a blank expanse of masonry in her life.

She sat up, throwing the covers off, before sleep could change its mind and pull her back under its dominion. She checked the time; she possibly had enough time to go see her father before Remedial Transfiguration, but it would be pushing it. And in the aftermath of her dream, her mind felt heavy, sluggish. Actually, she felt rather as if she  _had_  been holding a door closed all night, rather than simply dreaming of doing it. When she imagined the prospect of going to her father's quarters, possibly waking him up, and having to discuss her dream in detail, so shortly after experiencing it, it made her feel even more tired. And then, after that, it wasn't like she could slip into her old bedroom, crawl into bed, and sleep again. She still had a day full of classes. She decided to eat a good breakfast, including a very large cup of coffee, instead. She could talk to her father after dinner, or perhaps after Potions class the next day. Or… well, Bellatrix hadn't  _reached_  her in the dream, had she? Now that she considered, she could probably wait until her Occlumency lesson on Saturday to tell him about it.

That decided, she dressed and combed her hair, pinned the shorter layer of it back with a clip that Narcissa had sent her. She put her snake earrings and her locket on, too. Perhaps if she looked as though she weren't nearly falling asleep on her feet, she'd feel livelier too. She gathered her notes, and the books she'd need for the morning, Transfiguration and History of Magic, and then she went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

It was a difficult day. The coffee she'd filled up on at breakfast had done little to really wake her up, had only made her fidgety and anxious, and she made no progress to speak of in Transfiguration, in either her remedial lesson or her study session with Percy. It was tempting to fall asleep in History of Magic, but how embarrassing would it have been if she'd started snoring, or drooling, or something? Besides, she had found that as long as she took notes during the lecture, she remembered the material well enough to not need to study it much before exams. To neglect taking notes now would only make her position more difficult later, so she slogged through that class as well.

That night, she had the same dream again; and again, she had a hard time forcing herself to wake up. This time, when she finally did wake, it was much lighter out, and she barely had time to get ready before she had to run down the hall to Potions. She didn't have time to eat. She thought scathingly of the Ministry's letter to her then, the one in which they'd refused to give her a Time Turner. If she had one of  _those_ , she could have found time to eat… but she didn't, and that was that, evidently. She supposed the Calista of previous years would have still found time to eat, but this year she found that she couldn't make herself start the day without having washed, at least her face, and she had to comb and style her hair as well, and make sure her robes weren't fastened crookedly or anything. She told herself that this new habit had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she might run into Marcus in the common room, absolutely nothing at all. In fact, she supposed that she was only taking a bit of influence from her Aunt Narcissa, and this made enough sense that she decided to accept that as her reason, and stop thinking of who she might run into on her way out.

She had meant to tell her father about her dream after Potions class, but then Oliver Wood had melted another cauldron, and her father was supervising its cleanup. She had Ancient Runes next, and it was quickly becoming one of her favourite classes, so she didn't want to be late. She reassured herself that she would tell him about her dream - dreams, now, since it had been two nights in a row - on Saturday, after her Occlumency lesson.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Something happened that Friday, though, something which completely wiped Bellatrix from her mind. She'd just suffered through another terrible flying lesson - during which she had to suffer the full attention of Madam Hooch's displeasure, because she was now the only one left in the class. Even the clumsy Gryffindor had managed to do well enough, last time, to pass the course. The only upside was that there was no one left to laugh at her. When the tortuous hour was completed, she practically ran towards the castle - for a few paces, anyway. Then she heard someone calling her name.

"Calista! Wait!"

She turned; Marcus Flint was jogging towards her, broomstick over his shoulder. She waited, found herself twirling a lock of her hair around her index finger… she scowled, and dropped her hair. What the hell was she doing?

"Thought I'd miss you," Marcus said, slightly winded, as he caught up to her. His hair was wet, and he was carrying Quidditch robes over his arm. "Practise ran over a bit… I was hoping you'd come by when you were done again, but…" he shrugged.

"Why would I do that?" she said, because it was the only thing she could think of.

"Well, you did before. And I said I would show you some more stuff about flying, remember?"

"Oh," Calista said, and she could feel herself blushing; winter was close now, though, the days shorter, and she hoped the glow of the late afternoon sun would be blamed for any colour on her cheeks, if he noticed it. "Uhm, I don't remember agreeing to that."

Damn it. Why was her finger in her hair again? She tried to let it go, but it was a bit tangled up; she scowled, and had to use her other hand to unwind it.

Marcus grinned boyishly. "Well, you didn't, exactly. But you didn't make your  _oh-hell-no_  face when I asked you, either."

She blinked. "I… what? I have a 'hell no' face?"

He stepped forward, linked his arm through hers as if he was Amelia, and the two of them were walking to Hogsmeade together; except, the direction he began guiding her in was that of the Quidditch pitch. And, no matter how much she wanted to pretend it was just Amelia walking next to her, he was taller and broader and… well,  _boy_ -er. She had to get over this nonsense, and fast, or he was definitely going to notice.

"Oh, yeah," he said easily. "You have a lot of faces. The one you made when I said I'd take you flying again was the same one you make at your Transfiguration homework all the time. You know, like it annoys you, but you're going to wind up doing it. So I just figured… probably flying was the same. And look, you're walking with me, so I guess I was right."

She scowled at him. "I'm not sure if I like the idea of you sitting around and deciding what all my expressions mean."

He laughed. "That's one of my favourites, right there! The one that makes me think you'd be a hell of a Beater, if you could stop thinking of a broomstick like it's a dragon - come on, Calista, I'm just taking the piss, you don't have to keep looking at  _me_  like that."

"A dragon would be an improvement," she muttered. "At least I  _know_  it wants to kill me."

They reached the pitch, and Marcus took his broomstick off his shoulder. "D'you want me to go with you again, or d'you want to try by yourself this time?"

"No."

"Er… that wasn't really a yes or no question."

"I'm just being honest," Calista said, "I don't want to fly on that damn thing at all."

"Right," Marcus said, "But you have to, right? Unless you  _like_  spending every Friday afternoon with Madam Hooch?"

"Of course I don't."

"Well, then." He motioned towards the broomstick that hovered in front of them. "Go on."

Grudgingly, she climbed on the broomstick, trying to sit more-or-less the way Marcus had shown her last time, and the way Madam Hooch was always trying to tell her.

Marcus stepped up, right beside her, and she felt herself tense. Was he going to climb on behind her, again? Did she want him to?

He didn't, though. Instead, he put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her up to sit a little straighter, then adjusted her grip on the handle.

"Okay," he said, "Lean forward - just a bit - and tilt the handle up slowly."

"I don't want to do this."

"Really?" Marcus remarked calmly, "Because it's the first time you've told me so."

She scowled. "You're being snide."

"No, I'm not. I'm being  _sarcastic_. You, of all people, should know the difference, since it's, like, your specialty."

She tried to follow his instructions, and the broom lifted a little. Immediately, she panicked, and hunched her shoulders. Only sheer force of will kept her from trying to get her entire body in contact with the broomstick again; that, and the fact that she didn't want to be embarrassed any further than she already had been in front of Marcus.

"Sit up straight," Marcus reminded her, "Relax, you're way too tense."

"What if I fall?" she called down, hating the way she knew her voice sounded, thin and weak.

"You won't," he said, "Just keep holding on normally, and take it slow."

"You can't possibly know that I won't fall."

"Okay," Marcus said, "Have it your way, then. If you fall, I promise I'll stand here laughing at you instead of trying to help you.  _Especially_  if you break a bunch of bones and bleed all over the place."

She glared at him over her shoulder. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Marcus."

"Who's being sarcastic?" He shook his head. "C'mon, I learned it from you. See, we're teaching each other things. Straighter, lift up a bit more. And you'll do a lot better if you keep your eyes in  _front_  of you, instead of giving me dirty looks."

For the better part of an hour, he coached her, and by the end of it, Calista was amazed to have made more progress than she had in weeks and weeks of lessons with Madam Hooch. At first, it had annoyed her when he tried to poke fun at her, but actually, the familiar style of banter helped her feel more comfortable, and allowed her to relax a bit; not enough to loosen her white-knuckled grip on the broom's handle, for certain, but at least enough to make a few slow loops around the Quidditch pitch without having a heart attack.

When she was ready to land, Marcus guided her through that part too, and she managed not to hurtle too quickly towards the ground. She couldn't deny the immense relief she felt to be back on solid ground, however. She fairly leaped off the broomstick once her feet had touched grass again.

And none of that, terrifying, exhilarating, and unexpected as it was, was the part that made her forget all about her nightmare and her mother.  _That_  came at the very end, when she had gratefully dismounted, was reveling in the solid earth beneath her.

Marcus stepped up to her, and she thought he was just going to take his broom. Instead, his arms came around her shoulders in a hug. "You did it!" he said, more excited than she felt about it. His breath was warm near her ear; actually,  _he_  was warm, a welcome shield against the chill evening air.

"See, you'll be on the Quidditch team before you know it." he said, pulling back. His hands were still at either shoulder, and he was smiling warmly at her. She  _knew_  she was blushing again, damn it, and there was nothing she could do about it. She concentrated on keeping at least her expression, her eyes, neutral.

"I… wouldn't go that far," she managed to say, in a voice she hope sounded normal.

"It's fun, right?" She wished he'd take his hands off her; no, she wished he'd go back to hugging her…  _damn it, who the hell was she?_  If this was what liking a boy was like, Calista wanted  _no part of it_. Except, did she even have a choice? It seemed that her brain had already decided for her, no matter how often she tried to reason with it.

"Uhm," she said, and she couldn't figure out which words were supposed to come out of her mouth next.

"Yes," Marcus supplied helpfully, in an exaggerated falsetto. "Yes, flying is loads of fun, and we're going to do it all the time."

She scowled, but she was grateful he'd given her something she knew precisely how to respond to. "I do  _not_  sound like that."

"Nah, you don't," Marcus agreed, and he dropped his hands from her shoulders. He did stay quite close to her, though. She wondered if that meant anything, and then wondered why she cared if it did. "So… I think we can still make dinner, if we run back to the castle. Or we could wait a bit, try and nick stuff from the kitchens again."

Oh, gods. What would be worse? Sitting alone with Marcus, and this strange new set of feelings she had about him, or sitting at the crowded Slytherin table, hoping no one  _else_  could tell that her brain was revolting against her?

"I guess we should try to make it to dinner," she said. Maybe being around other people would distract her, or maybe there wouldn't even be two seats left together, and she'd have to sit away from him, where she couldn't say or do anything stupid.

"Okay. If that's what you want." Marcus did go for his broomstick now, and slung it easily over his shoulder, before falling into pace beside Calista.

They chatted easily on the way back to the castle. The setting sun, the fact that he probably couldn't easily see her face any more, put her at ease, and for a few moments, everything felt normal, the way it always had with him. He had always been easy to talk to, and when she could stop having ridiculous frazzly snips of emotion about him, he still was.

There must have been something, though, some hint she had forgotten to wipe clear from her eyes, some trace of a blush still on her cheeks, because when they entered the Great Hall, and sat down at the Slytherin table - there were two seats together, and Marcus slipped his broomstick under the table and gestured to her to sit in one of them - Kim Avery caught her eye, and grinned at her, knowingly.

Calista tried her best to ignore Kim, reached for the nearest dish of food and began filling her plate, but when she looked up a minute later, Kim was nudging Conor. She whispered something to him, and they both looked at her, and grinned. Kim even  _winked_ , just as Marcus was sitting down next to her. Marcus thought they were trying to catch  _his_  eye, though, and waved cluelessly at Conor. Calista caught Kim's eye again, and shook her head, urgently.

Kim leaned towards them. "So," she said, breezily, "What were  _you_  two doing? Enjoying a nice moonlit stroll?"

Calista felt horror dawn on her face.  _Shut up_ , she mouthed at Kim, who only grinned maddeningly.

Marcus snorted, filling his own plate. "Yeah, I always go for walks with my broomstick," he said, trying out more of that sarcasm. "Nah, I was teaching Calista to fly… hey, maybe she'll replace  _you_  on the Quidditch team when you graduate."

Kim raised an eyebrow at that. "Yeah? You think?" She glanced at Calista for confirmation.

"Definitely not," Calista said, quickly and firmly.

Conor cocked his head. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss your chances," he spoke up. "I'm tapping Marcus to take over the Captain spot next year."

Calista made a face. "And… how does that make me a better flyer?"

"Well, I guess it doesn't," Conor said, with a slow grin. "But if Marcus wants you on the team, something tells me you'll make the cut."

She rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to retort, to tell them that there was  _no way_  she was even going to go out for the team, ever, but then she noticed who was sitting on the other side of Marcus, leaning close and saying something in his ear. It was Endria Folland, widely considered the prettiest girl in Slytherin, maybe even in the whole school.

Marcus flushed slightly, and wiped his hand across his mouth nervously. He glanced over at Calista, but she looked quickly away. She remembered what Marcus had said about Endria, a few months ago.

_She's a right stunner, yeah?_

Suddenly, Calista wasn't hungry anymore. She muttered an excuse, and got up from the table. On her way out of the Great Hall, she felt a light pressure against the outermost part of her mental defences. Her father. When she met his invading tendril of thought with one of her own, she encountered a mild concern; she understood the nuances of his thought well enough at this point to interpret his question without any words. He had seen her get up from the table near the beginning of dinner, and wanted to know if anything was wrong. It might have seemed touching, were she not bothered by something she had zero intentions of ever sharing with him.

She half-turned, to look over her shoulder, and spotted him at the high table. She narrowed a glare at him at the same time she pushed against his intrusion with her mind. She knew her efforts wouldn't have stopped him if he was really trying to penetrate her mind, but she felt him withdraw, saw him redirect his gaze away from her, and knew she'd gotten her point across.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Despite everything else that was going on - or maybe because of it, Calista was looking forward to Christmas break. They were staying the week at the Malfoys' again, and Calista was looking forward to seeing Draco and Narcissa. There was a Hogsmeade weekend a few days before the break started, and she and her other third-year friends had arranged to meet at the Three Broomsticks for one last round of Butterbeer before the holidays, and exchange their gifts there.

She gave books to each of her friends: a history book for Percy, an Arithmancy book for Penelope, and  _Horrifying Hexes for the Hardly Human_  for Amelia, the one they'd been looking at in the bookstore. She hasn't even touched her own presents until after she'd watched Amelia tear the one from her open. Her face had lit up in a grin, and Calista determined that it had been worth the trouble of giving Kim the money to buy it for her. The bookstore had some agreement, apparently, not to sell certain books to underage students. Calista doubted she was the first to circumvent that rule by finding a student who  _was_  of age to make the purchase for her.

She'd expected books from them in return, but they'd surprised her. Instead of three individual presents, Penelope had taken a single large package from her bag, and set it on the table in front of her. "It's from all of us," she'd said, "Percy and Amelia and I. We all pitched in for it."

It was a wizarding chess set, the first one Calista had ever owned. She thought it was the nicest thing that she'd ever gotten from any of her friends, and Amelia had promptly teased that she had no excuse not to play with them now. Calista just wished she had someone in her own House to practise with… perhaps someday, she and Emily would be on good enough terms… or perhaps she could goad Eva or Sofia into playing.

She'd gotten presents for the two of them, as well, and she was glad she had thought to do so, because they each gave her one as well. That final Hogsmeade weekend before break, she and Amelia had gone into a little shop, where she'd found a display of hair clips with the Hogwarts house animals on them. She'd gotten herself one of the snake clips, the very first hair accessory that she'd ever picked out for herself, and then, after a moment's thought, she'd picked up two extras, for Sofia and Eva.

She'd thought she would wake up to precisely nothing at the foot of her bed on the day Christmas break started, since she'd already exchanged presents with most of her friends, and she knew her father would be waiting until Christmas Day, when they were staying with the Malfoys, but she'd woken up to a small pile. There was a pretty green hairband from Sofia, perhaps a bit more shiny than anything Calista would have picked for herself, and a small blank book with a miniature quill from Eva. Calista supposed it was meant to be a diary, but as soon as she saw it, she knew she'd use it to leave little cat drawings in her father's office. She had gotten a very nice bookmark from Emily, which made her feel a twinge of guilt, because she hadn't gotten Emily anything, didn't think she was on good enough terms with any of the girls in her dormitory to buy them presents.

Emily wasn't the only one to give her gifts that she hadn't reciprocated, either. There was a book of common Quidditch drills from Marcus, which she supposed was a nice gesture, but which she had no intention of ever reading, let alone following. Kim gave her a small book, too, and Calista thought at first that it was a diary, as well, because it did look a lot like the one from Eva. When she opened it, though, she grinned widely. It  _had_ been a blank book once, but now it was filled with pages of writing, in several different hands. She knew at a glance what was written all over the pages, but she read the note inside the front cover anyway.

_Snapelet -_

_Our time to corrupt you is coming to an end. In a couple more years, maybe you'll be doing corrupting. Conor's older brother started this book when he was in school, and we've added to it quite a bit. It's yours now - don't waste it! If you learn a new curse, poison, or anything else a Prefect would throw a nutty over, write it down in the book, but_ don't _let a teacher get hold of it, not even your dad. All the pages go blank if anyone over twenty years of age opens it, and it's a bitch to get them back. Ethan's mum found it three years ago and it took us months to fix, so don't wreck it and come bugging me for help. That's the only rule - that, and you've got to find someone to pass it on to before you graduate. Enjoy, and happy Christmas!_

_Love,_

_Kim (and Ethan, and Conor, and Peter)_

Well,  _that_  had been an excellent present for sure. She couldn't wait to show it to Amelia. It was too bad she was leaving right after breakfast, and didn't have time to show her that day. She flipped through, giving it more careful attention. Most of the spells and such in there, she had already heard of - and most of them, from the four very people that had bequeathed the book to her. There were a handful, here and there, that she didn't know, though. She grinned. She definitely had some reading to do over the break.

Portia, Emily, and Olivia were up now, and had started tearing into their own gifts while Calista was flipping through her new book. Portia had evidently given Olivia and Emily some kind of jewelry, which Olivia was gushing over far louder than was strictly necessary. Calista rolled her eyes. If they were trying to make her jealous, it wouldn't work. Firstly, she suspected that she would get some kind of girlish ornament from Narcissa, and secondly, it so happened that she preferred to get things like chess sets and handwritten lists of curses  _anyway_. She resisted the urge to make a face at Olivia, who might misinterpret as actual jealousy, and started to get ready, gathering her clothes on her bed and pulling the curtains all the way around it.

The other girls mostly changed in the room, not caring if they were in front of each other, but… well, the rest of the girls didn't have waxy-pale skin and skinny limbs, a stupid, uncomfortable pale yellow training bra, and they  _definitely_  didn't have a pattern of scars across their spines. So Calista always got dressed in her bed, with the curtains pulled closed. It wasn't always the most convenient way, but it kept her from feeling self-conscious, and from having Olivia make some comment about the marks on her back.

She wiggled and shimmied her way into the dark blue robes Narcissa had asked her to wear for Christmas, and then waited until she heard the other girls' chatter fade as they made their way to breakfast. When she was sure they were gone, she opened her curtains and slipped off the bed, to examine herself in the mirror in the door of her wardrobe. She straightened the robes where they were crooked, and frowned, tilting her head. She looked different in these robes, taller and maybe even a little older. She pulled her hair back in her fist experimentally, and she thought it looked okay, but… she actually had no idea how she was supposed to make it stay that way. It was embarrassing, but she didn't know how girls actually  _put_  their hair up like that, in a ponytail or a twist. She'd tried one day, and it hadn't looked right. There'd been little bumps of hair standing up everywhere. She shrugged, and let her hair go, clipped just the shorter part of it back like she usually did, with the snake clip she'd bought in Hogsmeade, put her earrings and her locket on, and went to the Great Hall.

Sofia and Eva were both wearing the same clips, the ones she'd gotten them for Christmas. She sat next to them, glancing up the table. Marcus wasn't there; perhaps he'd already gone home, or perhaps he was sleeping in. Olivia and her posse were a bit further along the table, but she ignored them, and chatted with the first years. Kim and her friends weren't here, either. She would have liked to thank them for passing the book on to her. Her father wasn't at the high table either, but he came into the Great Hall when she was nearly finished eating, and caught her eye, striding over to the Slytherin table.

"Meet me at my office with your things when you're finished," he said, and left as quickly as he had come. Was he cross with her? She didn't think he had much reason to be, but then, he got tense when they were going to visit the Malfoys sometimes. She recalled what had happened last Christmas, when Lucius had tried to invade her thoughts, wondered if he was fearful of a second offence. But he hadn't tried anything like that when they visited over the summer, and there was Narcissa's letter… perhaps he wouldn't try again. Calista hoped not.

She finished her breakfast, said a quick goodbye to the few friends she had that were still at the table, and went back to her room. She didn't need to take her whole trunk for only a week, so she emptied her schoolbooks out of the bag she sometimes used to carry them between classes, and haphazardly threw her robes and some regular clothes in there, along with the new book from Kim and her friends. Lastly, she went into her wardrobe, where she had a carefully-wrapped package set aside, and she put it on top of everything else in her bag. It was her father's present, and she'd worked on it for a long time, so she didn't want anything to happen to it. She had picked out presents for Draco, too, little things, but her father was keeping them in his office for her, and he was adding her name to the gifts he had for Lucius and Narcissa, so that was nearly everything. The last thing she had to pack was, unfortunately, the most difficult.

Calista set her bag down near the door, and then set about looking underneath all of the beds in the room. She didn't bother to call out for her cat; Yellow always knew when it was time to go in her cage, and she hated it. Calista had learned that calling for the cat when its cage was sitting open on her bed was as good as announcing her intentions to stuff her into it, and she tried to pretend like today was only an ordinary day, that she was just looking to pet the cat a bit before she went off to class.

She found him, hunched against the wall under Olivia's bed. She couldn't quite reach him from where she was; she lay on her belly on the floor, and reached her hand towards him. He eyed her reproachfully, as if he knew full well what she planned to do with him, and didn't like it one bit.

"Come on, Yellow," she murmured, "It's only a short trip, and then we can ask Aunt Narcissa for some fish. Wouldn't you like that?"

The cat sniffed her hand, but made no move towards her. She sighed, and shimmied herself partway under the bed so she could grab him. She got her hands around him, and when she did, her fingers knocked against something else that was under there with him. It was a wooden box of some kind, about the size of a book. It was probably full of stupid jewelry or something, Calista supposed. But then, she had seen where Olivia kept her jewelry, in an ornate box on the top shelf of her wardrobe. Well, whatever it was, it really wasn't any of her business, and she didn't care, anyway, right? She pulled her cat out from under the bed, rose to her feet, and ignored him when he hissed at her. She pushed him into his cage, and latched the door quickly behind him, and tried not to feel guilty at the look he gave her.

Her eyes immediately swept back to Olivia's bed. She definitely shouldn't snoop… probably it was nothing interesting anyway, and even if it was, she'd prefer to just pretend her roommate didn't exist most of the time, anyway. Except… well, she knew damn well that Olivia would go snooping through  _her_  things, it was the reason why she still kept her diaries, her old one from when she was small, and the newer ones her father had bought her since, in her old room in her father's quarters. And, she reasoned, snooping was probably precisely how Olivia had learned who Calista's mother was, she must have left something with Bellatrix's name on it where Olivia could see it. Maybe… maybe whatever was in that box under Olivia's bed would finally give Calista some ammo to threaten Olivia with, the next time she decided to try and bully Calista. She promised herself that, no matter what she found, she wouldn't use it against Olivia unless she was backed into a corner, and had to.

Having sufficiently justified it to herself, she crept back across the room, and before she could change her mind, she crouched down and snatched the box out from under the bed. It was a simple enough looking box, with a latched lid that was charm-locked; but Calista was excellent at Charms, that wasn't a problem. She took her wand from her pocket, and tapped it to the latch. It popped open, and Calista stuffed her wand back in her robes, and pushed the lid of the box open, her heart racing. What would she find…?

Paper, as it turned out. The box was full of paper and parchment, letters, it looked like, from home. A quick glance revealed that all, or nearly all of them, were from Olivia's mother. Well. That was boring, and Calista thought it served her right for snooping. She knew she shouldn't have done it, and now she was rewarded with a heavy, slimy feeling of guilt, and all so she could read about Swiss ski resorts, or expensive perfumes, or whatever else it was that Olivia and her mother simpered on about. She scowled, and snapped the lid closed - but wait, what was that? She opened it again, snatched a letter out. She had seen something, a flash of a name, one that snatched at her heart with icy, sharp-nailed fingers.

_Bellatrix_

She scanned the letter, trying to reassure herself that she probably hadn't seen what she thought she had. It was probably something else, the name of some fancy French perfume, or something, and her guilty conscience had tried to punish her by substituting some letters, because why would Olivia's mother be writing to her daughter about Bellatrix?

She found it, her mother's first and last name, staring back at her in an unfamiliar, flowery script. She scanned the paragraph it was in, dread mounting inside her.

 _I must tell you something very important now, Olivia, and be sure to mind what I say carefully. Your classmate, the professor's daughter, just as I thought seems to be quite well-connected. I'm certain that her mother must be none other than Bellatrix Lestrange - you must know who that is, but I'm enclosing an article from the_ Daily Prophet _concerning her arrest, in case you don't recall. Of course, we must condemn criminals like Ms. Lestrange, and others who followed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but we can't rule out an entire family for the crimes of one of its members, can we, my love?_

Calista kept reading, her eyes keeping time with her racing heart. What the hell was going on here?

_I'm sure I don't have to tell you what this means - your classmate is part of no less than three of the oldest and most influential wizarding families in Britain, Olivia. The Blacks, the Lestranges, and the Malfoys, by marriage. You know that Father has strived in vain to cultivate a mutually beneficial relationship with Lucius Malfoy at work, but perhaps you can succeed where he has failed. Befriend that girl, Olivia, invite her to our home, and see if she will invite you to hers. You are at a stage in your life where you can forge friendships that influence the course of the rest of your life; be certain you do not let these opportunities pass you by._

_Write me soon, and remember everything I said._

_Your loving_

_Mother_

Calista felt a nearly overpowering urge to rip the letter up, to throw it all over Olivia's bed, so Olivia would know that Calista knew what her plan was, and precisely what she thought of it. But then, she had a better idea. Olivia wanted to use Calista to make the Malfoys notice her family? So be it, then. Instead of tearing the letter up, Calista folded it carefully, and put it in her bag, on top of the present for her father. Then she closed the lid on the wooden box, and put it back where she had found it. She fastened her bag closed, hefted it on her shoulder, and picked up Yellow's cage with her other hand. Then she left the dormitory room behind, and went to her father's office.


	7. Chapter 7

The letter in Calista's pocket seemed fit to burn, for how acutely aware of it she was. Its discovery had made her late to her father's office, so they had left almost as soon as she'd arrived there. She thought for sure that her anger and shock at having discovered the letter would show plainly on her face, would cause her father to question her before they left, but he appeared not to have noticed her preoccupation.

As soon as they'd been invited inside Malfoy Manor, Draco had led her by the hand to his room, so he could show her the potion he'd brewed that morning. It was one of the ones she'd suggested, last Christmas, the one that would make vegetables taste like chocolate.

"I'm going to try it out tonight," he confided, as he held the little plastic flask up for her inspection. "Mother is making Brussels sprouts. I'd much rather taste chocolate."

Calista wrinkled her nose. "Think you have enough to share with me?"

"I expect so," Draco said, "But we could always make more, just in case."

Calista slipped her hand into the pocket of her robes, fingered the edges of the letter. She had wanted to show it to Narcissa; but she suspected that, by now, the adults were engaged in a boring conversation, probably having tea in the library again, and not only might Lucius be displeased at being interrupted, but she might have to stay and listen to them go on about boring Ministry business, or worse, Lucius might start talking about Calista's mother. She had all week to show the letter to Narcissa, she reasoned, and besides, she actually did like helping her cousin make potions.

"Yeah" she said, withdrawing her hand from her pocket. "Let's make some more."

"Do you hate vegetables too?" Draco asked.

"Most of them," Calista admitted, wrinkling her nose. "Especially the green ones."

"When I'm grown," Draco said, "I shall instruct my wife never to cook vegetables in my house."

Calista chuckled. "You've got your wedding all planned out already, then? Who are you going to marry?"

"Well, I don't know yet," Draco said, setting the flask down carefully on his desk. "She'll be pretty, like Mother. And a pureblood, of course."

Calista raised an eyebrow. "And what if she wants  _you_  to cook?"

"That's absurd," Draco said, pawing through a basket on his desk that contained packets of ingredients for his KidKauldron, "The woman always cooks, because house elves aren't as good at it as they are at cleaning."

Calista snorted. "My dad cooks," she said, "And house elves can too cook, they cook everything at Hogwarts."

"Well, our house elf can't cook," Draco said, "And your dad only cooks because you haven't got a mother at home. If she wasn't in Azkaban, she'd do all the cooking, you'd see."

"My… Bellatrix, cook? Now  _that's_  absurd. Clearly, you've never met her. She didn't… she wouldn't care-" Calista stopped. She didn't want to talk about her mother.

"Who cooked when you were small, then?" Draco looked puzzled.

"I don't… I don't really remember," Calista admitted. "We… I think our house elf must have. I didn't… I didn't eat much, though. I was never hungry."

Well. She had never been hungry because she had been too busy being afraid.

"See," Draco said triumphantly, "That's because house elves can't cook as well as women can. My mother is the best cook there is. Or she would be, if she'd stop cooking vegetables."

"Mm. Don't forget to rinse your cauldron out, first."

"Why?" Draco asked, "It's the same potion I made earlier."

"Well, what if there are leftover bits gummed up on the bottom? It could throw your ratios off. Besides, it's just a good habit to get into."

Draco rolled his eyes, but brought the cauldron to the nearest washroom, and did as he said. He returned, and set his ingredient packets up in a neat row. He placed the little cauldron back on its heating element, and took out a set of plastic measuring cups that had come with the cauldron.

Calista picked up one of the packets and read the back of it. "Powdered cacao beans," she said, "The oils work better, you know. I wonder if the potion would work differently if we adjusted the recipe to use real ingredients, like you'd buy at the apothecary. Maybe the texture would change, too, instead of just the flavor."

"Do you think so?" Draco carefully measured out another ingredient from one of the packets.

"We can try it sometime," she offered. "I can bring the proper ingredients next time I come over. Unless you think your parents would have them?"

"I can ask Father," Draco said, enthused. "Although I'd better not tell him what I want them for. He says I should get used to the taste of vegetables so I'll learn to like them."

His expression told Calista precisely what he thought of  _that_  idea.

"Yeah," Calista mused. "I don't know what it is with fathers and vegetables. It's like someone told them you're not allowed to be a parent if you don't nag your kids to eat them."

"Will you make your children eat vegetables, Calista?"

She snorted again, taking one of his measuring cups, and pouring the powdered cacao from the packet into it. "I'm not going to have any."

She passed the filled measuring cup to him, and he added it to the cauldron.

"Water," Draco said, picking up a cup. He was prepared to carry it to the washroom and fill it from the sink, but Calista reached out and took the cup from him gently. She drew her wand from her pocket, and used it to fill the cup with a jet of water. The instructions didn't specify what temperature the water should be at, but Calista knew the solid ingredients would dissolve better in warmer water, so that was what she filled the cup with. She handed it to Draco.

"Try this," she said, "Warm water will help everything dissolve faster."

"Are you allowed to use magic outside of class?" he asked, keenly.

"Not really," Calista admitted. "Little things like that, though, and practising homework… My dad says no one will really care, as long as it's not a lot, and as long as there are no Muggles around."

"Oh." Draco poured the water into the cauldron, and stirred with the wooden spoon that came with the set. "So how come you're not going to have any children?"

She shrugged. "I just… I don't think I'd be any good as a parent. Besides, I'd have to get married, and I don't know if I want to do that, either."

"That's true," Draco said very seriously, "I don't think I would want to get married either, if I had to marry a boy. I'm lucky I get to marry a girl, they're much prettier. And they cook."

Calista laughed. "I hope that's not your only criteria.  _I'm_  a girl, and I don't cook."

"Oh," Draco said again, "That's why you're not getting married, then. Because you don't want to cook."

"Well," she said, "That's not really the reason. I just… I don't know. I don't think I'd like sharing my room, it's bad enough living in a dormitory while I'm at school. And then, you know, there's all the  _kissing_."

She made a face; but then, unbidden, the image of Marcus came to her mind, and she could feel herself blush. She shoved the image away, behind one of her mental barriers. A masochistic portion of her brain tried to make her think of him as she'd last seen him, whispering with Endria, but she quashed that, too.

"See," Draco said, peering over the rim of the cauldron to check the colour of the potion, "That's the part I'm looking forward to. Father says it's fun to kiss a pretty girl, as long as she's a pureblood."

Calista raised an eyebrow again. "Well, I'm certainly not an expert," she said, "But I don't think someone's blood status affects how they… uhm, how they kiss. That doesn't make any sense."

"Father says it does," Draco said breezily, as if that settled the matter.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

The potion worked out as badly as Calista had initially feared, when she'd talked Draco out of making it last year. It changed the flavour of the vegetables, but they still had a distinct texture, and the combination was bad. So bad, in fact, that when she caught sight of Draco collecting his sprouts in his lap to dispose of later, she decided to follow suit. She didn't want to ruin her fancy robes though, not after Narcissa had gushed over how nice she looked in them, so she gathered her sprouts into her napkin instead.

She thought both of them had gone undetected, but then she felt her father brush lightly at her mind, a wry message hovering just outside of her initial layer of defence.

_I take it your potion didn't work out as well as you both hoped._

She glanced at him; he didn't look angry - more amused, if anything. she gave him a tiny half-smile, shook her head slightly.

"How are your sprouts, Draco? You've eaten nearly all of them, you must like them more than you remember." Narcissa asked, looking fondly at her son.

Calista checked her aunt's expression, but it didn't look like she was wise to the cousins' scheme.

"Oh, er, they're… good." Draco said, squirming a little. Something in his expression must not have seemed sincere enough, because now both of Draco's parents were studying him. They hadn't picked up on her father's comment, had they? She hadn't  _felt_  Lucius prying in her mind, but then, his comment hadn't been planted far, hadn't even really been behind any of her barriers.

"Are they?" Lucius asked mildly. "Do they taste anything like chocolate?"

Draco squirmed some more. "Er… no?"

Well, it was sort of true. They'd both tried a bite after surreptitiously dosing their sprouts with the potion, but he wasn't tasting them  _now._  Calista bit the insides of her mouth to stop a smile from spreading over her face, and giving herself and her little cousin away.

"You're a terrible liar, Draco," Lucius said, but he didn't sound particularly upset.

"Er… Calista's never going to get married," Draco announced, evidently trying to take the heat off of himself. "Because she doesn't want to learn to cook, or share her room."

Calista choked on something between an outcry of horror and a laugh.

"Really, Draco?" she managed. She'd hadn't told anyone about the sprouts on his lap, and this was how he repaid her?

All of the adults were looking at her now - Lucius with mild curiosity, Narcissa with a sort of motherly concern, and Severus with… with bloody amusement. Calista wished she could scowl at him without looking rude to their hosts.

"Calista, love, I can teach you how to cook if you'd like," Narcissa offered.

"Uhm… that's all right, Aunt Narcissa. Draco's just joking anyway, that's not really what I said."

"Yes it is," Draco piped up. She cut him a pointed glare, motioning to the napkin full of sprouts in her own lap, and hoping he'd get the hint.

"Well, Calista's still young," Lucius said, and it seemed his words were for all of them, though he was directing them at Draco, "There's still plenty of time to get used to the idea. I'm certain her father is pleased that he doesn't need to worry about chasing off unsuitable young men, yet."

"Well," Narcissa said, kindly, "Remember you can always talk to me about things like that, darling." And then, she gave Calista a surreptitious  _wink_. Oh, gods. Could this get any more embarrassing?

"I don't want to talk about  _anything_ ," she said, "Not… I mean, not like that.  _Ever_."

Great. She was blushing  _again_ ; she could feel the heat of it on her face. Why did this happen to her so often these days? And why wouldn't Marcus Flint stay out of her head?

"I think I'd prefer to discuss something else, as well," Severus said smoothly. Lucius chuckled, but Calista shot her father a grateful look. He looked nearly as uncomfortable as she felt.

"Very well," Lucius said, "How are your classes this year, Calista?"

"I like most of them," she said, eager to move on to another topic. "It's a bit difficult, taking so many - I take extra Potions with my dad -"

Well, that wasn't actually true, anymore, but she wasn't very well about to tell Lucius Malfoy that she was taking Occlumency lessons, now was she?

"And I have Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures for my other electives."

"Ah, yes, I expect Ancient Runes is one of your favourites, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Calista said, slightly puzzled. Had her father said something about it? "It is. How did you know?"

"Your mother was quite fond of it, as I recall," he replied, and Calista felt her heart thud in her chest. She wondered if her face had drained of colour, the way it felt like it had.

"Oh, yes, she was," Narcissa said. Calista marvelled that both of them sounded so casually conversational, when she suddenly felt so wretched. "She turned in extra assignments all the time, and she was always researching this or that, obscure runes from places I'd barely even heard of. I remember her trying to create new spells a few times, though I can't recall if any of them ever worked out."

Calista felt sick.  _She_  liked to research runes and charms, and do extra assignments, although she turned them into Flitwick far more often than she did to Professor Babbling.  _She_  wanted to create her own spells, or she always had, right up until this very minute.

"I always enjoyed Ancient Runes as well," Severus said, and his tone was light, but when Calista looked at him, his expression was heavy, and it was directed at her; she wasn't certain if it was meant to comfort her, or to warn her not to say anything she shouldn't; it accomplished both. "And as it happens, I did have a fair amount of success with creating new spells."

"You did?" Calista was honestly surprised; she hadn't known this. It also did a little to lift the weight that had started to gather somewhere in her gut. She didn't want to have anything in common with Bellatrix, but she liked finding things she had in common with her father.

"Ah yes," Lucius interjected. " _Levicorpus,_  I believe, was one of yours, Severus?"

"It was." There was a peculiar strain in his voice when he said it, a seemingly undue stress on the word 'was'. Calista wondered if anyone else had picked up on it.

Narcissa smiled, still reminiscing.

"Bella liked Ancient Runes and Astronomy best," she recalled, "She… well, she was always fascinated by the stars, since they were her namesake. All of the Blacks were named after stars, except for you and I."

She chewed a mouthful of food delicately, thoughtfully. "Although I suppose you were, in a way. 'Calista' is another form of 'Callisto'. Do you know which constellation she's associated with?"

"Uhm," Calista said, wary again. She wished the Malfoys would stop bringing Bellatrix up, as if Calista were supposed to find the mention of her mother tolerable, even pleasant. Did they suppose that Calista still managed to have love for her, after everything? Even not knowing all that had happened, how could they possibly suppose that Calista would think of her with anything but fear, and revulsion? "No… not really. I… uhm, I don't really pay much attention in Astronomy, most of the time. It's late, and I'm usually tired."

Well, and now that she knew the class was one of Bellatrix's favourites, she resolved to pay even less attention to it. As it was this year, she really was only retaining things that were crossover material with Arithmancy.

"Callisto was a nymph, I believe, in Greek mythology. I can't recall why, but the lore is that she was turned into  _Ursa Major_ , the Great Bear. Knowing what I do of mythology, my suspicions are that she was romantically involved with Zeus, but we can look it up later, if you'd like."

"That's okay," she said quickly, "It doesn't really matter."

She didn't want to talk about  _anything_  that was at all connected to her mother, couldn't they see that? She liked her name well enough, because it was something that had always seemed to be  _hers_ , and hers alone. It was the basis of her first idea of identity, the thing she had clung to on long, terrifying nights where it seemed as if she existed only as an extension of her mother - because as long as she had a name, she knew she was real. Now, Narcissa was ruining it.

"Are you certain?" Narcissa pressed, and Calista knew she meant well, but she was feeling a fluttery, uncomfortable pressure in her gut, in her head, again. "It's good for you to know your heritage, darling."

"I don't care what my name meant before," Calista said, surprising herself both with having spoken, and with the quiet force with which she did so. "It's mine now, and it means whatever  _I_  make it mean."

There was a brief silence around the table, during which Calista was afraid she had offended their hosts; but then, Narcissa was smiling kindly at her, and when she glanced at her father, he looked, for some inexplicable reason,  _proud._ Even Lucius wore the ghost of a smile, and he was the one who spoke, breaking the silence.

"I must say, that is a commendable philosophy," he said. "You're raising quite a daughter, Severus."

"Yes," her father said, "There are times when I become acutely aware of that."

"I ate all my vegetables," said Draco, whose lap was full of sprouts, "May I please have sweets now, Mother?"

Calista felt the coil of tension in her belly unwind.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Christmas Day at Malfoy Manor was every bit as lavish as it had been the year before. There were courses upon courses of delicious food, and no matter what Draco insisted, Calista suspected that the house elf, Dobby, must have had a hand in preparing a good deal of it.

Calista was pleased that Draco seemed to like the sweets she'd picked out for him at Honeydukes. She'd picked up Fizzing Whizbees, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and a few other things that sounded like a nine-year-old boy would be amused by them. It had been a bit harder to save her allowance to buy gifts this year, since she had Hogsmeade weekends to spend the money during, but she managed. She supposed her father probably would have given her more money to buy Draco's gifts if she'd asked, but she liked picking them out independently, liked the feeling of giving gifts all by herself to people that she liked.

She was most excited to give her father his gift, precisely for this reason… well, that, and the fact that she'd invested hours in it, here and there, since the summer. She didn't think he'd ever be able to top the first gift she had gotten him, two years ago, but she hoped this one would come close.

Calista and Draco were both thoroughly spoiled by Lucius and Narcissa; they'd given her more this year than they had last year, and Calista wondered what she would  _do_  with everything. There wasn't much space in her wardrobe anymore, after all the clothes that Narcissa had bought her over the summer, but Narcissa had given her even more - a set of lacy dark green dress robes that were nearly identical, except for the color, to the blue ones she'd worn the day they arrived, and more skirts, elegantly cut trousers, and prettily cut blouses than Calista thought she'd ever wear.

She had been right about the ornaments, too. There were hair ornaments, clips and ribbons and a hairband, and jewelry - a delicate silver chain with a snake on it that matched the earrings Narcissa had sent her, and two more pairs of earrings, long silver ones made of multiple short chains that would dangle prettily, and small silver hoops, too. Calista had been overwhelmed, and Narcissa must have noticed, because she hurried to remind Calista that she did not have a daughter of her own to buy pretty things for, that it made her happy to see Calista wear them.

Narcissa had even given her a small, delicate bottle of perfume, which brought a distinct look of alarm to Severus' face. Narcissa laid a hand on his forearm, and reassured him quietly.

"It's a very light scent," she told him, "Apple and gardenia, a hint of citrus. It's quite girlish, Severus, it's not the sort of thing a grown woman would wear."

Well, it wasn't the sort of thing Calista thought  _she'd_  wear, either, but she knew better than to tell Narcissa that.

She was relieved when she opened the gifts from her father, a book of potions and a book of Egyptian runes, things she knew precisely what to do with. There was another book, as well, one that Calista had not expected. When she saw the title, she double-checked the tag, thinking it must have been from Lucius; but it wasn't, it was definitely Severus' writing.

_Shadow Charms: Exploring the Dark Arts Through Charmwork_

She looked up at Severus, a question in her eyes. This was the sort of book she and Amelia might sneak a look through in the bookstore at Hogsmeade, the sort of thing she might expect to see in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. It was the sort of book she knew she wasn't allowed to read from hr father's shelf, although that didn't always stop her. It was  _not_  the sort of book she expected to even be allowed to own, let alone be given to her by her father.

"You can't learn proper defence if you don't understand what you're fighting," Severus said, quietly. This, at least, was a part of his philosophy that she had heard before. Was she only meant to read about the charms in the book, then, and not try to cast any of them? If that was the case, then he had a higher opinion of her self-control than she did.

She opened the front cover of the book. There was a note inside, in her father's handwriting. It was quite short, but reading it made her smile crookedly.

_C -_

_Perhaps the foreseeable future will cease to exist in the present once you've learned a few of these spells to protect yourself with. Of course, you will still need a willing guardian, and yours is not easily swayed by drawings of mangy cats._

_\- Dad_

"They're not mangy," was all she said, but she hoped she managed to convey with her expression how pleased she was, with the book as well as the note.

She gave her gift to her father last, because she wanted to be able to see his reaction without the distractions of her own gifts. She hoped he liked it; there was a chance he wouldn't, but she had tried not to consider that. She handed him the flat, heavy package carefully, watched him tear it open.

It was a picture, and the only part she'd had to pay for was the frame, and she'd picked one of solid dark wood. The picture itself, she'd drawn - she'd drawn it more than twenty times, trying to get it just right, discarding her previous attempts if she felt she'd gotten even one detail wrong. She stood at his elbow, looked at the picture with him, trying to reassure herself that it  _was_ perfect, or as perfect as she could make it.

She'd drawn the two of them, in black ink, in his workroom beneath his quarters. She was younger, smaller, standing on a chair he'd brought down from the kitchen, and stirring a cauldron with a wooden spoon. She hadn't wanted to draw her own face, partly because it felt weird, and partly because she didn't want to stare into a mirror for all the time it would take to get her features correct, so she'd drawn the image as though the viewer was standing behind her, so she was distinguishable only by her slight form and the tangle of long, black hair.

She'd drawn Severus in profile, because she had spent so many hours eye to eye with him in Occlumency lessons that she knew his face by heart. She wondered if he knew hers just as well. In her drawing, he was leaning over her, one hand on her shoulder in a gesture that she hoped she had managed to capture as protective and supportive at the same time; his other hand was pointing to the cauldron, and she'd imagined, while she drew him, that he was saying something about the colour of the potion. Behind them, she'd painstakingly drawn and labelled all the jars of ingredients that she could recall being there, had tried to draw and shadow the stone walls of the dungeon realistically.

She thought she'd done a very good job; she glanced up at her father's face again to see if he agreed.

Severus shifted the drawing to one hand, and slid his other arm around her shoulders, leaning down to speak to her quietly.

"I had no idea you could draw this well," he said. "You must have been practising a lot."

He didn't say anything about the subject of the drawing, but he didn't have to. She could hear the delicate trace of emotion in his voice, and she smiled to herself. He liked it, she could tell.

"I told you I could draw something besides cats," she said, and then she cast a sly little look across at him. "Although, if you look carefully…"

She lifted her hand, and pointed to the bottom right corner of the picture, where a small kitten was peering out from behind the leg of the worktable. "It's Yellow."

"Well," Severus said, affecting a long-suffering tone. "The rest of the picture is very good."

"Is that a photograph?" Narcissa was looking at them now, curiosity on her features. "May I see it?"

"It's not a photograph," Calista said, as Severus lowered the picture, turned it so she could see it.

Narcissa's blue eyes widened, and her mouth set up into a soft, pretty smile. "Oh, that's such a sweet picture. Did you really draw that yourself, Calista?"

Calista nodded.

"I wonder, have you ever tried painting?"

"No, not really. I mean, I painted a few really bad cats when I was small, but that's it."

"I used to like to paint, when I was younger," Narcissa said, and this surprised Calista, who couldn't imagine her sophisticated aunt doing  _anything_  that might get her robes dirty. It was difficult enough to imagine her cooking, actually. She seemed like the sort of woman who simply waved her delicate hands, ordering servants to do everything for her. But then, Calista was learning that most people were not precisely what they seemed.

"You did?" Calista asked, "What sorts of things did you paint?"

"Flowers, mostly," she said, a dreamy reminiscence filtering its way into her face. "And landscapes. Pretty things… my mother wanted me to paint portraits of the family, but I never was very good at painting faces. I tried, but they always seemed flat, somehow."

"Why did you stop? Did you get tired of it?"

Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. "Not tired, exactly. I suppose I simply grew up, and once I had married Lucius… well, we can purchase any sort of art we want, there's no need to display my amateur work."

That seemed a bit sad, to Calista, but she thought it would be rude to say so. She couldn't imagine giving up something she truly liked doing, just because it had no practical value. She wanted to leave little cat sketches for her father to find until the day she died, even if every single one of them was more likely than not ending up in the dustbin. And the essays she wrote for Flitwick… she supposed there was probably a lot of research she'd done that she'd never wind up using for anything, but she enjoyed gathering the knowledge, anyway.

Besides, as far as Calista could tell, Narcissa had replaced her painting hobby with a shopping one, and in Calista's own opinion, painting was far more purposeful and productive.

One thing was for certain; if getting married meant giving up the things she enjoyed doing,  _and_ cooking,  _and_ sharing her room, there was no way she was ever going to do it. Besides, even Calista knew you didn't have to marry someone to kiss them…

And damn it, she was thinking of Marcus again, as easily as that.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

_She was in the house again, but it was different this time. Thin sunlight streamed through half-shuttered windows; most of the doors in the hallway were ajar, spilling diluted light even out into the hall, but Calista wasn't in the hall._

_She was in one of the sitting rooms, standing in the very centre of it. There was a table in front of her, just the right height for her to write at while she stood. She was writing a letter, but she couldn't read the words on the parchment. How would she address it, though, if she didn't know who it was for? She tried to read the name at the top, but the letters blurred as soon as she tried to focus on them. Perhaps if she could recall why she had set out to write the letter, she could remember who it was to…_

_But she couldn't recall, couldn't even recall beginning the letter. Her earliest memory was of this very moment, standing in front of this odd little table, and signing her name to a sheet of parchment filled with writing she could not read._

_How could that be, though? She knew who she was, knew her own past and her family, knew the names of all of her friends, but it was as if the knowledge was part of her body, or held in the blood that ran through her veins; something she had always had, but had no memory of actually experiencing first-hand._

_She looked around the room for inspiration, as if some object within it would jog her memory, but everything in the room was meaningless. An ivory sofa, an oriental-looking rug over a polished medium-wood floor, the little table she wrote at, and a smaller version of it that held a plant, in the corner. She turned back to her letter, at a loss…_

_Except, the letter was gone, and so was the table she'd been writing it at. Impossible… she checked the pockets of her robes, but they were empty. She looked under the rug, underneath and behind the sofa, but the letter seemed to have vanished as suddenly as she had begun writing it. Frowning, she approached the only other object in the room she had not yet closely examined for clues: the plant stand._

_When she approached it, she wa surprised that she had not recognised the small blue flowers from a distance. They were forget-me-nots, of course. She reached out, fingered a delicate stem -_

_\- a prick of pain, and she looked at her finger in surprise; a bead of bright blood welled up from her fingertip; but forget-me-nots didn't have thorns -_

_They weren't forget-me-nots anymore, though. The plant had transformed, or been replaced, with something else, something that Calista was familiar enough with that it sent an instant tremor of alarm along all of her nerves. Aconite. The mother of poisons… but aconite shouldn't have thorns, either. She separated the leaves carefully, peered at the stems. She didn't see any thorns, so what had pricked her? She looked at her finger again, as if for proof that the injury had even occurred, but already the skin had healed, leaving nothing but a whispery-pale white line behind, the memory of a scar._

_The door to the sitting room slammed; Calista started, whirling to face the sound, and then her heart sank, heavy like lead, even though she could still feel it, beating wildly in her throat, against her skin. She was here, in the room, and Calista had no idea how or when she'd arrived._

_Bellatrix smiled, fixing cold eyes on Calista, who suddenly found that she was rooted to the spot, couldn't move her legs no matter how badly she wanted to run; but where would she run, anyway? There was only the one door, and Bellatrix was between her and it._

' _Hello again, my child,' Bellatrix crooned softly, and Calista felt a shiver trail its way from the back of her neck to the center of her spine, where it transformed into a searing heat, and an icy chill at the same time. Oh gods, there was something… something awful, Calista could feel it lingering, hungry, at the edges of her memory. Something she almost remembered, a memory that had once embedded itself in a pain very much like this…_

' _You've grown,' Bellatrix continued, advancing slowly towards her. 'I wonder if… perhaps you are not so useless, after all. It's been very difficult to reach you; you've learned a few tricks, haven't you, pet?'_

' _Leave me alone,' Calista whispered, but her lips didn't move. Still, Bellatrix must have heard her somehow, because she laughed, a low, throaty sound that managed to appeal and revulse simultaneously. She stepped closer to Calista, closing the distance between them._

' _I didn't name you for a Greek nymph,' she said conversationally. 'I named you for precisely what you are: a beautiful vessel. Beautiful, because you were mine alone, once…'_

_She placed her hand, cold as the grave, on Calista's cheek, and Calista recoiled, twisting her face away from her mother's, trying to summon the will to snap her eyes shut, but finding it immensely difficult._

' _You're stronger than you were before,' Bellatrix whispered, caressing her daughter's cheek in as close to a loving gesture as she had ever offered the child. 'You'll shut me out again, I think. But know this, daughter. You can't truly leave me behind, not tonight and not ever, because a vessel is what you are. How can you escape the very blood of your veins?'_

' _My blood is my own,' Calista said, but again, the words were only between them, because she could not make her mouth move, could not make her voice fill the space between them. A burning, hot-and-cold pain continued to mount, searing at the skin of her back, but she pressed on, trying to ignore it. 'And so is my name, and everything else.'_

' _Oh, yes,' Bellatrix mused mirthfully, 'It's all your own; that's why you can't even direct your own voice, in your own dream. That's why I'm here, even though you profess to wish so desperately that I weren't.'_

_Something that had been flirting with the edges of Calista's mind, licking its way through the physical pain she felt, was unearthed, then. If it was as Bellatrix was implying, if some part of Calista's psyche, something in her blood, was allowing her mother to be here, then surely that meant… if it was still truly Calista's dream, then couldn't she summon the person who had given her the other half of her blood here, as well?_

_She called out, with her mind, the same way she'd spoken into Bellatrix's, but instead of looking into her mother's cold grey eyes, she imagined the jet depths of her father's instead, imagined looking at him and asking him to come, guiding him down the narrow hallway of this strange, maze-like house, imagined pointing out which door she and Bellatrix were behind. And it must have worked, somehow, because the pain was dissolving, and here he was -_

He was in the room, but it wasn't an impersonal sitting room in a vacant house at all. It was a plushly appointed bedroom, with her clothes in the bureau and her own body on the bed, and she was squinting as she sat up quickly, because the room was brightly lit by an overhead chandelier. She was wearing her nightdress, not her robes, and there was no sign of Bellatrix at all, no sign that her dream had even happened…

Except for the frantic look in her father's eyes, the solid grip of his hands on her shoulders, the hoarse, sleep-roughened fear in his voice as he asked her a question, again and again.

"Calista, what happened? What happened?"

"I-" she started to speak, but it was just like her dream - no words came out of her mouth, though her lips did move. She lost the image of her father, the pretty room, in a blur of tears, saw only the vague impression of light for an instant, until the tears rolled down her cheeks, hot and real, and her vision swam back into focus.

"A dream," she managed, in a whisper; she realised that her throat hurt, and she was very thirsty.

"Severus?" Lucius' voice, nearly as tired-sounding as Severus', cut across the room; Calista's eyes darted to the doorway, and she saw Narcissa there, worried eyes fixed on her face. Lucius hovered behind her, just visible over her shoulder, though he wasn't looking directly into the room.

Severus exhaled, looked towards the doorway. "Everything's all right," he said, and he sounded a good deal calmer than his eyes had looked to Calista, only a fraction of a moment ago. "She had a nightmare… it hasn't happened in quite some time, but she'll be fine. I'm sorry she woke you."

"Don't worry about that," Narcissa said, dipping her head forward, into the room. "Is there anything I can get you, darling? A glass of water, perhaps?"

She wanted to send her aunt and uncle away, immediately; she hadn't decided yet if their presence made her afraid or only embarrassed, but she didn't welcome it either way. Severus nodded, though.

"I think water would be helpful," he said, and Narcissa retreated. She returned a moment later, with an ornate pitcher and two glasses.

"May I come in?" she asked, and Severus nodded again. Calista pulled the blankets around her, suddenly cold. She still didn't think she could speak.

Narcissa filled one of the glasses, and set the pitcher and the other glass down on the nightstand, next to the snake hairclip and earrings that Calista had set there before she went to sleep. She supposed that must have been only hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. Narcissa handed the full glass to Calista; the pitcher must have been charmed to keep it cold, because it was like ice. She drained half the glass in one sip, and it relieved some of the burning in her throat.

"Anything else, love?" Narcissa asked her softly, kindly.

Calista felt herself blush, and shook her head. "Th-thank you," she managed.

"I'll leave you two, then," her aunt said, "I hope you feel yourself again in the morning, Calista. Good night."

"'Night," Calista replied, locking her jaw so it wouldn't chatter; the ice water had certainly not made her feel any warmer.

"Sleep well," came Lucius' voice from the doorway again, and it sounded almost kind. Then both of them left, Narcissa easing the door closed behind her, leaving Calista and her father alone in the well-lit room.

"I woke everyone up?" Calista said, in quiet horror. Her voice came out hoarse, but she was finally able to speak a full sentence.

"You were screaming," Severus said quietly. He sat on the edge of her bed, regarding her face solemnly. "What were you dreaming about, Calista?"

She shivered. What did he  _think_  she'd been dreaming about? She didn't want to say it, not here, in this house where her mother was spoken of with affection, reverence even.

" _Her_ ," she said, her voice barely audible even to herself.

He kept his eyes on her, waiting for her to say more. She hugged her blanket tighter around herself. "Is it… is it safe to say, here?"

Severus reached into the pocket of his robes, which he had thrown on quickly over his nightshirt, withdrew his wand, and flicked it in a practised motion, casting a Silencing Spell in a bubble around the two of them.

"Things seem different this year," he said, "I don't believe you need to fear Lucius anymore, though that doesn't necessarily mean you should trust him, either. Be that as it it may, no one will hear beyond the boundaries of this spell, so that should set you at ease. Now, tell me:  _what were you dreaming about_?"

"The house again, the one from my other dreams. Only… this time, I was alone, and all the doors were open… at least, I could have sworn I was alone… there was a plant…"

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to recall the precise timeline of the dream, but it was hard, when her mind kept showing her the cold grey of her mother's eyes, letting her taste the ghost of the pain that had burned halfway down her back. What had come before that?

"A letter," she said, "I was writing a letter."

"To whom?"

"I don't know," Calista said, "I can't remember. I don't think I could remember in the dream, either."

"Do you know what it was about?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't read the words. It… I think it disappeared, after a minute. It was gone, and I couldn't find it. There was… there was a plant in the room, so I went to go look at it…"

She remembered, suddenly, the prick of pain on her index finger. She withdrew her hand from the confines of her blanket, examined it closely. There was nothing at all unusual about it, no scar and certainly no blood.

"It looked like forget-me-nots," she said, "But it had thorns… then when I looked again, it had turned into aconite."

She chanced a glance up at him, hoping for reassurance; but what she saw in his expression had the opposite effect. He looked pale, and alarm sparked behind his eyes.

"It doesn't make sense," she said, "Aconite doesn't have thorns, either, I know that…" she shivered. "I was trying to figure out if the plant meant anything important, and then - and then she was  _there_ , in the room. I didn't… I didn't even know she was in the house. She… she closed the door, and she came towards me…"

"This was the same room as before?" he asked, tensely, "With the windows? She got through the door?"

"No," she said, "I mean, yes, she got through, but it wasn't the same room. I never went upstairs, this time. I was just in a sitting room, on the ground level. I didn't know anyone was coming."

"But you must have had something between you," he said, "If not a door, then what - your cloak, again?"

"No," she said, quietly. "There was nothing. She came right up to me, touched my face…"

Severus cursed, then reached over and poured himself a glass of water with hands that shook, just slightly. That terrified Calista more than the dream itself had.

"Dad, how did she reach me?" she asked, nervously.

"Let me ask you something," he countered, "Was there anything else… unusual about the dream? Any… any images, or sensations, that seemed different from previous nightmares?"

"There was… there was this pain," she said, and she could feel her jaw wanting to tremble again. She swallowed forcefully, tensed her muscles to try and prevent her teeth from chattering. "Right in the middle of my back, where… where I have the scars… It felt real."

Severus set his water down on the nightstand, not having taken even a single sip. A bit of it sloshed over the edge of the glass when it made contact with the surface of the table.

"Anything… anything else?"

"No," she said, "Except… except she was talking to me. And I couldn't talk back… I mean, I could think things, and she would understand them, but I couldn't make my voice work."

"What was she saying?"

"I don't know… lots of things. The… the kind of stuff she always does, I guess."

His nostrils flared. "Give me specifics, Calista."

"She said… she said…" She frowned, furrowed her brow, trying to find the scene in her mind again. She searched her own mind for the memory of it, gathered it to the forefront of her mind, and looked at her father. "Here, I'll show you. It's in the first layer of my mind."

She felt him tap her outermost barrier almost immediately, sensed him easing his way through it. She felt him breach it, knew when he had landed on the correct memory, saw him turning it over and over, examining it. The memory replayed itself for him; Calista bit down on her tongue, afraid she would cry out again.

"It doesn't make sense," he said, gently withdrawing from her mind. "An attack like that… she shouldn't have been able to reach you, not all of a sudden, not with your barriers in place."

"Does it have something to do with the plant?" she ventured.

"Of course it does," he snapped, but she knew his irritation wasn't directed at her. "But even that - she shouldn't have been able to manage all that, not unless she'd been in your dreams before, laying some sort of groundwork - but you haven't had any others recently…"

Calista shifted uneasily, darted a glance at his face, and then fixed her stare on the floral pattern of the blanket she had wrapped around herself.

"I… I did dream about her recently," she admitted in a small voice.

"When?" he said, "While we were here? Last night? You should have come to me, even if you were nervous about Lucius or Narcissa overhearing."

"It… it wasn't while we were here," she said, "It was… a few weeks ago. A Monday, after Astronomy. And then… and then, the next night, too. It was just… just the old house dream again, the one with the windowed room, and the door she was trying to get in."

There was a short silence, and then Severus was glaring at her, teeth bared.

" _What?_ " he breathed, and if she hadn't already seen it in his face when she chanced a glance at him, she would have heard in his voice that he was furious, and this time it  _was_  with her.

"I meant to tell you," she said defensively, "But I had classes, and homework, and… and other things… and I thought I'd just tell you later, but then more time had gone by, and I… I just forgot."

"You know very well," he said, forcefully, "You've always known, you  _must_  come to me straightaway when you dream about her,  _especially_  when it seems as though she's trying to infiltrate your mind, and yet you have  _two_   _dreams in a row_  where she's trying to open a door in your mind, and you 'forget' to tell me?"

"It didn't seem that important," she said, hating the fact that she could hear tears threatening to choke her voice again. "It was just like before, I kept her out by holding my cloak up to the window."

"How soon after that did you wake up?"

"I don't know," Calista said, "A… a little while, I guess. It… it felt like I was holding the door shut for ages -"

Catching sight of his expression, she hastened to add - "But it was fine, it was easy enough to hold her back. I did it; it's like  _she_  said, I'm getting stronger."

"Yes," Severus said, not quite suppressing a hiss, "Yes, you are getting stronger, but evidently not any wiser. Since you weren't looking at her while you guarded the door you really have no way of knowing if she was there the whole time, do you?"

"Of course she was, the door kept rattling-"

"A parlour trick, in the realm of legilimency," he said scornfully, "All she had to do was keep rattling at that door, and you thought you were safe - I'd bet you Galleons to grassweed she was roaming through the rest of the house at will, anchoring herself to rooms that were suddenly unlocked when you directed all of your energy to guarding a single door."

Calista felt herself pale, and a shiver ran through her body. "How could I possibly know that?" she whispered.

"You couldn't," Severus snarled, "Which is  _precisely_  why you're supposed to come to  _me_ , immediately, when you have a dream like that."

"I meant to," she said again, "I just… I got busy, and then I forgot. It wasn't on purpose."

"I'm not certain if you truly understand," he said, "It's not only your own safety you jeopardised by not coming to me; it's the safety of  _everyone_  in the entire school. If Bellatrix succeeded in taking control of your mind again -"

"She can't, can she?"

"I don't know. But if she can, if she did, she could start murdering students…"

"What do I do now, then?" she asked, her voice small, defeated. "If she… if she did that thing you said, if she anchored herself…"

"Anchor points," he said, "It's something like a bookmark you create in someone else's mind, so you can find your place again quickly. They create something of an access point for the infiltrator that leaves them, but they  _can_  be removed. If they're found."

"So… is that what you're going to do? Find them, and get rid of them?"

Severus considered his daughter for a moment. Calista felt as though he were reading her face, assessing her by whatever he found there.

"No, I'm not," he said, quietly. "You seem to think you are strong enough to hold her back, all on your own."

"But I didn't mean -"

"So I'm going to teach you how to find them," he continued, and there was a finality in his words that told Calista there was no point in arguing, "And  _you_  are going to remove them."

"But you said… isn't that legilimency?"

"It is," he said, "And I need you to understand how difficult it is to perform, so perhaps you won't take it so lightly the next time Bellatrix threatens to infiltrate your mind."

"That's…" Calista felt her throat tighten again, sensed the warning pinpricks of impending tears and forced them down. "Dad, that's not fair. I don't take it lightly, it's the most terrifying thing… how can you even say that?"

He softened, slightly, put his hand to her back. "What am I meant to think, when you neglect to tell me of her attempts to infiltrate your mind?"

She was reminded, suddenly and powerfully, of similar nights, when she was quite small. Back then, he had offered comfort even when she thought she didn't want it. She imagined, for a moment, wiggling closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, letting him comfort her again. She thought he probably would, even if he was a bit cross with her.

But there was something in her, something left over, perhaps, from her early childhood, when she'd been determined not to get close to anyone; something that made her want to take two steps back for every forward step she took, even now. That something had been slithering through her mind ever since the heartfelt conversation she'd shared with her father in his quarters, weeks ago, making her feel like she had to affect a distance between them again.

So she couldn't seek comfort, not one smidgen more than he was already giving her. She stood up, telling herself that she was getting up for a reason that had nothing to do with the ghost of the jaded, feral child that still lived somewhere inside her. "It's not… the dreams aren't my only problem," she said, because there was a larger part of her that had already overcome that ghost.

She crossed the room, opened the wardrobe, and reached into the pocket of the blue robes she'd worn the first day of Christmas break. She withdrew the letter she'd stolen from Olivia.

She wasn't within the boundary of the Silencing Spell anymore, but it didn't seem to matter. Severus himself didn't seem particularly concerned with being overheard, and she had nearly shown the letter to Narcissa, anyway.

"Olivia knows who my mother is," she said, "And I'm worried she's going to tell everyone. She… she slipped a copy of that article, the one from when she was arrested, into one of my schoolbooks. And then I found this…"

She passed the letter to him. "I found this in Olivia's things, the morning before we came here."

His eyes scanned the parchment. "The last two paragraphs," Calista said, and she saw his eyes skip to that part, and narrow. He folded the letter back up, and held it out to her, holding her gaze.

"What do you plan to do?"

"I was going to show this letter to Aunt Narcissa," Calista said, "I thought… well, if she wants her family to be noticed, I might as well give her what she wants, but on  _my_  terms."

He considered her, and nodded. "That seems reasonable."

"It… it does?"

"As long as you are prepared to face whatever comes of it. Perhaps it will lead to the disgrace of your classmate's family; or perhaps it will turn out that Miss Avril's mother is indeed a connection that Lucius will consider valuable, and if that's the case, you must expect that he'll pardon whatever your classmate's done to you in favour of his own interests."

"What do  _you_  think I should do?"

He kept his eyes fixed on her face, steady and, unfortunately, unreadable. "I think you've made it quite clear that you're eager to make your own decisions."

"That sounds like you're cross with me," she said, suspiciously.

"Well, if you're speaking in regards to failing to inform me that you'd been dreaming about Bellatrix again, then yes, I'm quite cross with you. Concerning this letter, though…" he sighed. "Sometime in the last year, you've started growing up. It's Christmas Break already and you haven't earned a single detention. You've chosen to make friends that influence you positively rather than negatively, you're managing a full courseload quite well, and even Professor McGonagall has only encouraging things to say about you this year. I almost can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually believe you'll handle this appropriately."

"My friends," Calista said, "That's one of the things I'm afraid of… I don't want them to find out who my mother is, but I feel like there's nothing I can do to prevent them from finding out, now that Olivia knows."

"Calista," he said, and he tried to sound gentle, "You must realise that people are going to find out eventually."

"Why? They never will, if Olivia keeps her mouth shut."

"Think about this for a moment," he said, "What will you do when Draco starts at Hogwarts? Pretend not to know him?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe."

"What is it about your friends finding out that frightens you?"

"Isn't that obvious?" she said, climbing back onto the bed, and pulling the blankets around her again. "Some of my friends are Muggle-born. I doubt they'd want to be friends with someone whose mother is known for torturing and murdering their kind."

"I would think they'd know you well enough by now to realise you aren't like her."

"Aren't I though?" she asked bitterly, "Ancient Runes, and extra essays? I had no idea."

"That hardly indicates that you share her character," Severus said. "I think your friends will understand the difference."

"What if they don't?"

"Well," Severus said, bluntly, "There's not a whole lot you can do, in that case, except find new friends, but I don't think that will be necessary. As I see it, it's in your best interests to reveal the truth to your friends, in your own way, before your classmate Miss Avril does it for you. Do it 'on your terms', as you said earlier."

"I don't think I can," she said, solemnly. "I'm too afraid of what they'll think."

"I know it seems difficult," he said, "But consider how it might feel to know that Miss Avril holds nothing, absolutely nothing, over you anymore."

She frowned, considering his words. It would be nice, freeing, to not have to fear Olivia's next move, but the price she'd pay might be more dear than Calista was comfortable with. If only Olivia didn't know, then Calista wouldn't need to worry.

"You should try to get some more sleep," Severus said, standing. "Tomorrow, I'll tell Lucius and Narcissa that we're going back to the castle a few days early, and we'll work on detecting and removing any of Bellatrix's influence in your mind. In the meantime, consider your options, in regard to the other matter. You can come and talk to me if you need to work anything out. Or… you can always write to your aunt, if you don't want to talk to me."

He sounded as though he were resigned to the latter condition, and Calista thought she could hear a measure of sadness in his voice.

"We can talk tomorrow," she said, "While you're teaching me legilimency."

He cut a path to the door, paused before opening it to go out. He turned his head back towards her, and nodded. "Tomorrow, then. Good night."

"'Night, Dad."

He opened the door, and just as he stepped over the threshold, Calista said one more thing.

"Thank you for coming when I called."

She thought for a moment that he hadn't heard, but when he tipped his wand towards the chandelier on his way out, dimming the lights again, he answered her, quietly but sincerely.

"I always will, Calista."


	8. Chapter 8

Severus and Calista sat in the small study that was part of Severus' quarters, three days before classes were set to resume following Christmas. Their armchairs were set facing each other, a short distance apart.

"I'm going to enter your mind," Severus said, "And show you what to look for. Normally, I'd caution you to ensure your barriers are still intact while practising legilimency - a precaution that many neglect to take - but I don't expect you'll be able to do this properly without focusing all your energy on it, so just this once it is acceptable to let your defences fall if you must."

Calista nodded, but still when Severus sent a seeking tendril of his mind into hers, he encountered her usual barriers. It struck him, not for the first time, that it shouldn't have been possible, under normal circumstances, for any legilimens to have gotten far enough past Calista's barriers from such a vast physical distance. He didn't think even  _he_  could have done it, shared blood or not - he had long since ascertained that his ability to connect to her mind was enhanced by it, and thus Bellatrix's had to be, also, but Calista's barriers were fairly strong by this point, and distance was  _always_  a hindrance to legilimency.

Of course, there was a slight chance that Calista's latest cluster of dreams had been  _only_  dreams, and not an indication of a breach by Bellatrix, but Severus didn't think so. Certainly, they sounded as if Bellatrix was actually in her mind in some capacity, and Calista thought it felt that way as well, and she usually had a fairly good sense for when Bellatrix was actually trying to reach her and when she wasn't. Particularly troubling was the fact that Calista had felt pain in the dream; always before, when that had happened, Bellatrix had been inside her mind, attacking her.

Severus' suspicions regarding the nature of the dream were confirmed almost immediately; between her first and second set of barriers, Severus felt a knot of something alien to his daughter's mind. It was a gnarled, dark tangle of a thought, and it had been wound haphazardly into the tapestry of Calista's mind.

"Do you remember how to direct your thoughts outward?" he asked, because it had been a long time since he'd had her try. In response, he felt the brush of her consciousness against the thread of his own thoughts that he'd sent into her mind.

"You're looking for something that feels out of place," he said, "Something with a psychic signature that you don't recognise as your own."

He could sense her looking, turning pieces of her own thoughts over, and examining them. She paused, several times, on memories that concerned Bellatrix, but couldn't seem to find the thread of her mother's influence within her mind.

"Don't concentrate on looking for her specifically," he said, "You're being misled by your own memories. Ignore the contents, and look for something that's outwardly different."

She prodded around a little more, but he didn't think she understood precisely what she was looking for. He let her look a little longer, and then he guided her to the spot where the incriminating bit of thought had been anchored. He felt her recoil when she hit upon it.

"Now," he said, "You want to separate it from your own thoughts, but carefully. If you're too sudden, you might damage the piece of your mind that she's attached it to; it's like untying a knot."

She reached for the offending psychic thread, but recoiled again when she touched against it; in front of him, in the physical realm of his study, Calista winced.

"It's her… I can't… It's like she's here, like I'm trapped in a dream with her," she managed to say. Her voice came out thin.

"That's because she  _is_  here," he said, "And you will be trapped in a dream with her again, if you allow her influence to deepen. I don't think I need to remind you what happens if she manages to perform legilimency on you inside of a dream, do I?"

"No," she said, quietly, and she reached hesitantly for the small coil of Bellatrix's influence. He could feel her own mind become tenser, more alert; her hands clenched into fists on her lap. She pulled at the offending thread, gingerly.

"I just want to rip it out," she said, anguished.

"Don't," he said, "Pull it slowly apart from your own thoughts; I never said it would be easy for you to do this yourself, only that it would be possible."

"I hate this." She kept pausing, pulling the thread out partway, and then gathering her resolve before tackling it again.

" _This_  would not be necessary at all, if you'd come to me before the dreams escalated again," he reminded her.

"I said I was sorry."

"And yet, 'sorry' doesn't prevent your mind from being compromised," he said. "You're almost there; keep at it."

Finally, she managed to unwind the snakelike thread from the rest of her thoughts. "Now what do I do?" she asked. "How do I get rid of it?"

"Try to create a vessel to contain it," he said, "There are likely to be other places where she's attempted to anchor herself in your mind; it will be less exhausting to push them all out of your mind at once."

She created a thin bubble of thought, a finer, more delicate version of the one that he had created in her mind, years ago, to cushion her from her darkest memories, and wrapped it around the dark fiber of Bellatrix's thread; immediately, the thread began to try to worm its way out of the thin walls; Calista exhaled, and funnelled more strength into the bubble, making it thicker, which seemed to suffice.

"See if you can find any other indications of her presence," he said, "Remember, it's acceptable in this instance to draw some the energy you need from your barriers, if you must."

She scanned carefully over the surface of her thoughts, trying to follow his advice, and look only for something that felt out of place. Now that she had touched on one of the anchors, it was easier to find the next one, because she knew what she was looking for. She brushed against another one, and felt herself wincing again.

Calista untangled this second dark knot as well; again, she had to keep pausing, and bracing herself for the contact with the sinister-feeling thread. When she had done it, she had to contain it. She reached for the bubble she'd created, and noticed its walls were thinner again; she didn't know if her own strength had faded, or if Bellatrix's thought had damaged it from the inside, but she thought she ought to do the same thing, either way. She forced the second thread inside the bubble, and reinforced its walls.

She found a third anchor point, and went through the same process again, and she had to reinforce the bubble two more times. When she scanned the surface of her mind again, she couldn't find any other places that felt like Bellatrix.

"I think I found them all," she said. Severus could hear exhaustion in her voice.

"I'm going to make certain," he said, "Concentrate on keeping the ones you've already found contained."

She fed a little more strength into the bubble, while Severus explored the surface of her mind, doing as he had instructed her to do, and ignoring the contents of thoughts and memories, and focusing only on the psychic signature they carried. There were no fragments of Bellatrix in the layer between her first two barriers anymore, so he approached her second barrier to search beyond it.

Her barriers all appeared to be fully intact, still. He broke through the second one, and continued to search. He found nothing untoward in the second layer, and pushed through her final barrier. There was nothing in the innermost part of her mind, either, that shouldn't have been, which was something of a relief, anyway.

"It does not appear," he told her, "That Bellatrix managed to extend her influence any further than the outermost layer of your mind."

"That's… that's good, right?"

"Well, it's not ideal," he said, "Keeping her out entirely would be best -"

"No kidding," she muttered. Severus decided to let her comment slide, provided it was the only one.

"But it's a good sign. It means that a complete infiltration, like she accomplished several years ago, would prove exceedingly difficult to replicate; certainly, it would take her much longer than it did before. However," he cautioned, a bit sternly, because he didn't quite like the spark of relief he saw in her eyes, "It would likely still be possible, particularly after allowing her to create numerous anchoring memories in your mind, as you did by neglecting to address her appearances in your dreams as soon as they occurred."

"Now how do I get rid of them?" she asked, sounding strained. He softened, marginally.

"Gather your mental strength," he said, "Use it to enclose the contained pieces of her influence, and you will need to force it out, through any barriers that stand in the way. It is going to be difficult, because she is likely trying to maintain the connection to you. It's… I wish there was a nuanced way to accomplish this, but there isn't. It's a matter of sheer force, you against her. Luckily, you are dealing with only a very tiny fraction of her presence, so you should be able to do it, even with a lack of formal training in legilimency."

He retained a narrow connection with her mind as well, so he could see how she did, ensure that she was able to push the offending tendrils of Bellatrix's psyche out. She made a weak push at the bubble containing them, but it wasn't nearly enough to expel its contents beyond the limits of her mind, particularly since she would need to bypass her own outermost mental barrier.

"Drop your barriers," he said, a bit impatiently, because he had already advised her to do this several times. "The first one, at least. You'll likely need strength from the others to push her out."

She let part of her first barrier drain away, funnelled that strength into pushing the bubble out; but as soon as she had done so, her resources returned to the barrier, instinctively, reinforcing it.

"I can't," she said, and she sounded nervous, "I… it feels too strange, to let it down, after all this time."

"As much as I generally approve of that principle," Severus said, "I don't think you'll have the necessary strength to remove her influence otherwise."

She tried again, but had the same reaction, and immediately scrambled to reinforce the barrier. "No," she said, stubbornly, with a small shudder. "I don't… I hate the way that feels, even for a second. There has to be another way, I can find the strength somewhere else…"

She closed her eyes, and he could feel her reaching deep within the recesses of her mind, trying to find energy that she could spare. After a few minutes, she made another  _push_  at the bubble; but it wouldn't go through the barrier, not when she still had it maintained at her full strength.

Severus didn't like to repeat himself; he waited for her to come to the obvious conclusion, and lower her defences long enough to force Bellatrix's influence out.

Except, she didn't. She pulled from within herself again; and he didn't think she had any more to give, but she must have found more strength somewhere inside herself, because he felt more and more slowly trickle into the wave of energy that she was trying to force Bellatrix out with.

She pushed again, and his predictions regarding Bellatrix's inclinations were proven to be correct - the strands of thought pushed at the walls of the bubble, drawn to the fabric of Calista's mind like magnets.

"Calista…" Severus sighed.

" _I can do it_ ," she insisted, snarling. "I'm  _not_  lowering my barriers."

She mentally pushed at the bubble of unwelcome psychic strands, using every bit of force she could muster, and when that ran out, she reached deep into her core, gathering every ounce of strength she possibly could.

It was true, what she'd told him, that it felt frightening and unnatural to her now to lower her defences, but it was more complicated than that. She was unnerved by the fact that Bellatrix had reached her again, and she was haunted by what she had said.

_You're stronger than you were before._

She wasn't strong enough, evidently, if she couldn't keep Bellatrix from slipping, snakelike, into her dreams, even now. But she wanted to be strong enough; wanted it more than she thought she had ever wanted anything. She wanted to push Bellatrix out, with so much force that her mother would be reeling when the tendrils of her mind were forced back into her, and she wanted to do it while she was still guarded from further attack.  _She_  wanted to be as impenetrable as Azkaban, only instead of holding her mother in, she wanted to lock her out.

In short, she wanted to tell Bellatrix to  _fuck off_ as forcefully as she could.

So she gathered every ounce of ability for the mental arts as she could muster, without depleting her barriers, and then she kept pulling, kept searching for more, and she pushed back against Bellatrix's sinister anchor points as hard as she could; and she realised she didn't  _have_  to push through her own barriers, she could manipulate them.

She shifted the arrangement of threads in her outermost barrier, and altered it, so that she could send her own thoughts through it easily, and  _only_ her own thoughts; that way, Bellatrix or anyone else couldn't push through while she was distracted. She reinforced the walls around the bubble that contained her mother's unwelcome essence, and then, with every bit of energy that she had been able to find, she forced it out; it slid neatly through her altered barrier, and then she kept pushing, until she felt it disappear somewhere beyond the confines of her own mind; she pulled the threads of her own mind, the reserves she'd used to create the bubble, and brought them back into herself.

Severus withdrew gently from her mind once he could feel that Bellatrix's anchoring threads were gone. He studied his daughter carefully; she looked as exhausted as he'd seen her in years, wan and pale - there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her shoulders sagged. Even her eyes looked tired, as she flicked them upwards to his face.

"I told you I could do it," she said, exhaling.

Severus looked at her face a moment longer; there was a stirring of conflicting emotions and thoughts in his own mind, and he knew he should say something to her, but he couldn't quite wrench the proper words out.

"You did," he managed, and that was all he wanted to say, just now. He rose, and held his hand out to her.

"You should rest," he said quietly, "You can sleep in your old room. I'll wake you in a little while, for dinner."

She hesitated, and put her hands on the arms of the chair briefly. Severus thought she would pull herself out of the chair, and for some reason he didn't want her to, he wanted her to take his offered hand instead. When she did reach out and accept his help, he felt a keen relief that seemed oddly out of proportion to the situation. He guided her down the small corridor that ran through the center of his quarters, and pushed open the door to the room that he had never quite been motivated to return to its former usage as a sitting room.

He half-expected to see the dim, cool light of the nightlight he had gotten her, years ago, for Christmas, but then he remembered that it had died quite some time ago, as had her need for it.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When classes resumed after the break, they picked up in pace. Calista wouldn't have thought it possible, but Professor Vector began assigning them even more homework for Arithmancy. As a direct result, she was spending more and more time with Amelia, because they still did the homework together. Of course, spending time with Amelia often meant spending time with Penelope and Percy as well, and if it had not been obvious to Calista's housemates before that her closest friends were in other houses, it certainly was clear now.

A few of the second years that were Olivia's cronies hissed remarks about it, here or there, and so did Portia and Olivia, but no one else did. Calista suspected Kim Avery had something to do with that, because it never seemed to happen when she was in the common room.

Marcus kept showing up at the end of her Flying class, whether he had Quidditch practise beforehand or not. He always brought his broomstick, and she always put up a fuss about practising before she gave in, and headed towards the Quidditch pitch with him. Partly, she really didn't like flying, even now that she was slowly getting a bit better at it, and partly she was afraid that the more time she spent with him, the more likely he'd be to notice the fact that she'd begun to turn blushing and twirling her hair around her finger into a national sport. It got to the point that she started pulling her hair back into a ponytail on Fridays, just so she'd be less likely to reach for it when she got that odd, fluttery feeling in her stomach around Marcus.

A couple of weeks into February, something that Calista saw as spectacular happened. Fifteen minutes into her Flying class, Madam Hooch waved her down from her slow, uneasy flight on the school broom that she still didn't trust.

"Very well, Miss Snape. I'm nearly convinced you won't fall and break your neck the next time you're on a broomstick," she said, "And I suppose that's the best we can hope for. I'll let the Headmaster know your lessons are finished.

"What?" Calista said, "I really don't have to come to any more lessons?"

"You've met my minimum expectations - barely - for operating a broomstick. I would recommend you continue to practise, of course, but you're excused from lessons."

Calista had a sneaking suspicion that Madam Hooch had been about to add "finally" to the end of her sentence, but she didn't care. She tossed the hated broomstick carelessly to the grass, and tore off before the instructor could change her mind.

On her way back to the castle, she ran into Marcus, who was wearing his regular school robes, and had his broomstick over his shoulder.

"Marcus," she said, with a measure of excitement, "Guess what? I'm done with Flying lessons, I don't have to go anymore."

"Yeah?" He mirrored her smile. "That's brilliant. I told you you were getting better. Now maybe you can come to Quidditch practises on Fridays, watch the team, and get a feel for some of the moves we use. I bet in a few more weeks, we can have you trying some of them."

Calista blinked. "Are you mental? I'm done with lessons, I'm not going to fly anymore."

"What? Why not? You were - I thought you were starting to really get into it. You were going to go out for the Quidditch team next year, remember?"

" _I_ never said I was going to do that, you and Conor did. I'm still rubbish, and I know it. You'd be better off putting a grindylow on the team."

Marcus furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Huh? Grindylows can't breathe above water, they wouldn't be able to fly… unless you could play underwater, but… I don't think that would work."

"Yeah," Calista said slowly, "That's the point."

"But you're loads better than a grindylow would be," Marcus insisted, sincerely.

"Erm," Calista said, "It… it was a joke, Marcus."

"Oh." He paused, and considered this, switching his broomstick to his other shoulder, before he chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I get it now. So… you really don't want to practise flying now, then?"

"Not particularly," she admitted, and Marcus frowned.

"All right," he said, "I think I'm going to go down to the pitch anyway, try out a few things Conor was showing us last practise. D'you want to come?"

"That depends," she said suspiciously, "Are you going to try and trick me into flying again, after all?"

Marcus grinned boyishly. "Maybe."

Calista felt the now-familiar flutter in her stomach again. Olivia liked to comment snidely on the fact that some of Marcus' teeth were a bit crooked, but Calista didn't think it mattered; there was something about his grin that she'd always liked. It used to put her at ease, when she was younger, and had only thought of him as her friend. Now, it gave her insides a funny flip-flopping feeling…

"Fine," she said, and realised that his grin also made her say stupid things, "I'll go, but I'm only going to watch."

"Right," Marcus said, looping his arm effortlessly through hers in motion that had become habit, "Whatever you say."

She realised, after several steps, that she hadn't flinched or started when he'd touched her, not at all. She wondered what it would be like if they were holding hands, instead of walking with their elbows linked. Or… what if he put his arm around her, or…?

She was blushing, again, and she realised that Marcus was talking, and she had no idea what he'd been saying.

"What?" she said, "Sorry, I… er, I was thinking about something."

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing sidelong at her. "What were you thinking about?"

"Uhm," she said, scrounging for a word, anything, that had absolutely nothing to do with what she'd actually been thinking, "Transfiguration."

"Oh." He was quiet for a few paces. "How're you doing with it? We haven't really studied together in a while. I saw you got the beetle buttons to come out right."

"I'm doing okay, I guess," she said, "A bit better, anyway. I'm supposed to start learning badgering on Tuesday."

"It took me  _ages_  to get that," Marcus said, "I hope you get it faster than I did."

"Yeah," She shrugged. "I hope it's not too bad. So what were you saying, before?"

"I was just saying, we have another Hogsmeade weekend coming up. D'you…" he trailed off, and Calista glanced at him. He met her gaze, shook his head slightly, and flashed his grin again. "D'you think Kim'll get drunk again?"

"I doubt it," Calista said, "You should've seen how sick she got."

He shrugged, as they approached the Quidditch pitch. "Yeah, you're probably right. Still, it was pretty funny. I didn't think Madam Rosmerta was going to serve her, but she did. Four times."

"Four? I guess that explains a lot."

"Yeah." Marcus let go of Calista, and swung his broom over his shoulder. He gestured towards it, inviting her to climb on, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"I told you, I'm just going to watch."

Marcus smiled crookedly. "Yeah, well, it was worth a try, right?" He threw his own leg over the broomstick, and took off, leaning forward. He climbed up, higher and higher into the air.

Calista watched, and it seemed that he was trying out some new manoeuvres, because he was looping, and diving, and generally doing things that looked to Calista as though they were likely to send him flying off the broomstick, but he remained firmly seated on it. After perhaps ten minutes, he glided easily back to the ground, stopping the broomstick right beside her.

"Didn't that look fun?"

"It looked suicidal."

"Maybe a bit," he grinned again, "But fun. Come on, I'll show you."

" _No way,_ " she said, firmly. "I have this thing, I can only have fun when both feet are on the ground."

He chuckled. "That sounds like a boring 'thing'. It wasn't so bad before, when I took you flying, was it? I didn't let you fall."

"Yes, well, you weren't going upside down then, either."

"I won't go upside down if you don't want me to," Marcus said. He slid backwards on the broom, making room, and gestured to the spot in front of him.

She was still uneasy in the air, even if she had managed to overcome it just enough to satisfy Madam Hooch, and if it were anyone besides Marcus, she would have still refused. But it  _was_  Marcus, and she sort of believed that he wouldn't let her fall. More importantly, there was a part of herself, which she was finding increasingly annoying, that liked the idea of sitting so close to him again… oh gods, she was blushing  _again_. Her hand started to go up, and she grabbed her ponytail for a second, before realising what she was doing and dropping it quickly.

"Promise you won't go upside down?" she asked, feeling like this blushing, hair-fiddling girl inside her was taking her over, infiltrating her mind - only instead of wanting to sacrifice her, or entice her to serve the Dark Lord, this girl within wanted her to fly on broomsticks and try to make her hair look pretty, all so she could be close to a boy… a very nice boy with an enticing grin, but a  _boy_  nonetheless.

"I promise," he said, "Unless you change your mind."

"I won't," she said, but she stepped up to the broomstick, and eased herself onto it. She sat a little too far forward, because she felt awkward about pressing herself so close to him, but he didn't seem to feel awkward about it, because he put his hands at the sides of her torso, and pulled her gently back, until she was sitting in the right place. She was  _so_  glad he couldn't see her face, and she hoped her ears weren't turning red too, because he might be able to see those.

Marcus leaned forward, bringing his arms around her and placing them on the broom handle in front of her. Then he lifted off into the air, climbing just as high as he had moments ago, when he was flying alone.

She felt an uncomfortable lightness in her belly that, for once, had nothing to do with Marcus, and everything to do with the height the broomstick reached, before he banked it into a turn and started to turn and zigzag through the air.

She felt herself tense, and shiver, and she wasn't sure if it was from nerves or the chill winter air, but at least Marcus seemed to be keeping his word, and he wasn't flying upside down.

She felt warmth by her ear, and then she caught Marcus' voice briefly, before the wind snatched it away.

"Hang on," she thought he'd said, and then she understood why, when he took the broomstick into a spectacular dive. She hung on, all right; she gripped the broomstick as if her life depended on it, and she felt a bit like it might. They hurtled toward the ground, too fast, impossibly fast… and then, Marcus pulled the broom up again, beginning a slower, calmer rise back into the air.

"All right? he asked, near her ear again, and she could hear him better now that they were flying more slowly.

"That was-" she exhaled, shaking her head, trying to dispel some of her nerves.

"Brilliant fun?" He supplied.

"Scary," she said, turning her head so he could hear her. "Maybe… maybe a tiny bit fun, too."

"Good," he said, and Calista swore she could hear his grin in his voice, "'Cause we're going to do it again."

"Wait, I don't know-" she started, but he was zooming up faster now, and her words were lost in the rising wind.

He made a wide, fast loop around the pitch, and then went into another dive; this time, she knew what to expect, and it was a bit less scary, a bit more fun.

They flew around a little longer, until it was time to return to the castle for dinner. When Marcus brought his broomstick down, and Calista's feet touched ground, she found herself hesitating, just a couple of seconds, before she made to climb off - but then it was awkward, again, because Marcus still had his hands on the broomstick in front of her, and his arms were still blocking her in.

"Sorry," Marcus said, moving his arms to his sides, and sliding back a bit so she could dismount. He climbed off after she did, and picked up his broomstick. He looked at her, expectantly.

"Well?" he said, "Still giving up on flying?"

"It's not the same," she said, "Flying by myself, and flying with y- erm, with someone else. It… it seems harder to fall off, you know?"

"I still think it's weird that you're scared of flying," Marcus said, glancing in the direction of the castle, but not making any moves to get back to it. "I didn't think you were scared of much of anything."

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was poking fun at her; but he looked sincere enough.

"That's…" She shook her head. "I'm scared of things."

"Like what? Besides flying by yourself."

 _I'm scared of the way I'm starting to feel around you_ , Calista thought to herself, but of course she would never say that.

"Vampires," she said, "Werewolves."  _My mother_.

He laughed. "Is that it? That's the whole list?"

Well, it was half of it. "Pretty much," she said.

"My list is longer than that," Marcus admitted, easily.

"I don't think  _you_  seem like you're scared of much," Calista said. "You're definitely not afraid of flying, that's one less than me."

"I'm scared of a normal amount of things," Marcus said, "I mean, I'm not a chicken, or anything. But, you know… vampires and werewolves, too, I guess, although I've never met one, so I'm not sure. The Giant Squid. Failing my exams and getting kicked off the Quidditch team."

Calista realised they still weren't heading for the castle; they were probably going to be too late for dinner if they didn't go soon.

"We should head back," she said, and Marcus nodded, putting his broomstick over his shoulder. They started walking back towards the castle.

"So, is that it?" Calista asked, looking over at him, "Just four things?"

"One more thing," Marcus said, and he glanced at her sheepishly. "I'm… I'm scared of your dad."

She laughed. "Why? You're getting better at Potions, aren't you?"

"Yeah, a bit. I mean, I don't melt cauldrons as much anymore."

"What do you mean by 'as much'?"

"Maybe once or twice, this year."

"Well, that's fewer than Oliver Wood," she said, encouragingly.

"Yeah," Marcus said, "It's not just that, though. It's… I dunno."

"No, go on," she said, "I won't be cross with you, loads of people are afraid of my dad. He's really not that bad, though."

"Well, yeah," Marcus said, "Not to  _you_. I mean, he's your dad. I bet… I bet he's like, really protective of you, right?"

Calista rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you could say that. Nearly every time I've gotten in trouble with him, it's because he thinks I've done something dangerous."

"Like what?" he asked, curiously.

 _Like forget to tell him my psychotic mother is trying to possess me,_  she thought.

"I got in trouble when I was eight or nine for sneaking into the Owlery," she said, "I almost got clawed by an owl - he was so angry - I had to copy lines a thousand times. And, oh, I used to always ask to go into the Forbidden Forest, or to go swimming in the lake, with the Giant Squid. That usually made him pretty cross."

"You wanted to swim with the Giant Squid?" Marcus asked, horrified, and Calista remembered that he'd said he was afraid of it.

"Well, not  _really_ ," she said, "It was just kind of fun to pretend I wanted to, just to see the look on my dad's face."

"Wow," Marcus said, almost reverently, as they approached the castle. "You made him cross on purpose? You  _are_  brave."

They stepped into the entrance hall, and then nearly collided with Severus, of all people, as they joined the crowd of students and staff funnelling into the Great Hall.

"Dad," Calista said, and she fervently hoped that any trace of heightened colour had left her cheeks. She glanced at Marcus, and saw that  _his_  face looked a little red, too. Maybe it was from the wind, when they were flying, but she didn't think it had looked that way before.

"Calista," he greeted her, and then he nodded to Marcus. "Mr. Flint."

"H-hello, sir," Marcus stammered. Calista couldn't think why he sounded so nervous, and then she realised that he must have been afraid her father had overheard the end of their conversation.

Severus flicked his glance over the two of them again, and Calista thought she saw one corner of his mouth pull downwards in a concerned frown, but the expression was gone as quickly as she thought she saw it, so perhaps she had imagined it.

"Marcus has been helping me learn to fly," she said, as they entered the Great Hall. "And guess what? Madam Hooch says I'm done with lessons, now."

"Is that so?" Severus half-turned, and cast his gaze over Calista, and Marcus in turn, again. "I expect you're pleased with that news."

"Ecstatic," Calista said, as Marcus pulled back from them. Calista glanced at him questioningly.

"I… er, I'm just going to go drop my broom off," he said, and he disappeared before Calista could reply. She shrugged, and continued walking. She separated from her father when she reached the Slytherin table, and he continued on to the high table.

She considered an empty seat near Kim and the other seventh years, but she remembered what had happened  _last_  time she sat near them after coming in with Marcus, and she hastily sat down with Sofia and Eva instead.

"Hi, Calista," Sofia greeted her cheerfully, and Eva waved with her fingers. She chatted with them for a few minutes, but she kept glancing towards the door.

When Marcus returned, he slid into a seat among the other fourth years. Calista noted with a small bit of satisfaction that there was another student separating him from Endria Folland.

"So," Sofia said, leaning over and talking quietly but cheerfully. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Calista nearly choked on the piece of chicken she was eating.

" _What?_  No! I don't have a -" she wrinkled her nose, and lowered her voice, "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh." Sofia looked casually down the table, in Marcus' direction, and then spoke softly to Calista again. "I was only asking," she said, "Because I thought you two looked kind of cute together, and I was going to tell you so."

"Well, we don't," Calista said, stubbornly, "I mean, we're not. It's not… it's not like that. We're friends."

Sofia raised her eyebrows. "Okay." She didn't sound convinced.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista huddled under her winter cloak as twilight advanced, watching her breath make fog in front of her face. Everyone in their little cluster of spectators in the Quidditch stands was cold, and everyone had the same thing on their minds.

"I can't  _wait_  for some hot chocolate," Amelia whined, next to her. "How long are they going to keep playing?"

The Gryffindor team was playing a mock game, and they were determined to keep playing until Charlie Weasley found the Snitch. Unfortunately for all of the chilly students waiting anxiously for a warm, sweet treat, this had not been Charlie's best day. They'd been practising for more than three hours already, and a lot of spectators had given up and gone back into the castle, including Penny and Percy, who had disappeared to study Arithmancy.

Amelia had stayed, and so had Nymphadora Tonks, but most of the other students that Calista was friendly with had already gone inside. She wanted to go back to the castle herself, but Amelia had begged her to stay out, citing hot chocolate as a reason.

"I bet we could get some hot chocolate inside," Calista pointed out, "From the kitchens. I know how to get in."

"Then I'd feel like I wasted all this time already," Amelia said.

Tonks smiled at Calista. "It was the greatest day of my life when I figured that out," she said, "Dessert whenever I want, it's brilliant. Did someone tell you, or did you just guess how to get in?"

"Marcus showed me," Calista said, "A few months ago."

"I'm surprised you didn't know before he did," Amelia commented, "Seeing as you spent all that time at Hogwarts when you were small."

"Yeah," Tonks said, with a grin, "But boys  _always_  know where to find food. Well, boys and me. I'm always hungry."

If it were true, Calista wondered where all the food Tonks was taking from the kitchens was going. The older girl was thin and lanky, and didn't really look like she'd ever eaten a Cauldron Cake in her life. Calista wondered if being a metamorphmagus meant you could make yourself stay thin, no matter what you ate.

"I like your hair today," she commented, looking at Tonks. She tried to see any genetic resemblance to herself, any sign that they shared blood, but how could she even know if the face she was looking at was Tonks' normal face?

Her hair  _was_  really cool; today it was in short, hot-pink spikes, and she had on dangly earrings that were little skulls in precisely the same shade.

"Thanks," she said, "I had a detention today, so I was trying to look the part, you know?"

"What was your detention for?" Amelia asked. Calista snuck another look at Tonks; she thought she might have similar cheekbones, high and sharp, although Tonks' were set in a wider face.

"I'm not supposed to say," Tonks admitted, "Professor Sprout was afraid other students would copy me if they heard about it."

"Oh, come on," Amelia said, "Now you  _have_  to tell us."

"Can't," Tonks said, regretfully, "I'll lose twenty house points if I tell anyone. My housemates would kill me."

"How would she know, though?" Calista asked. "It's not like she put some kind of spell on you, or anything, to know when you said it. Teachers aren't allowed to cast magic against students."

"Beats me," Tonks said, "However they found out I did it in the first place, I guess. I'm not saying, so you'll just have to take my word for it that it was fun."

Amelia grumbled a bit, but then Charlie went into a beautifully executed dive. When he pulled out of it, just inches from the ground, he was holding something up in the air; it was too dark to see what it was from the stands, but everyone assumed it was the Snitch, and scrambled down from the stands onto the edge of the field.

It was the Snitch, and soon enough, the spectators were rewarded with their hot chocolate. Calista sipped at hers, and thought that it was probably worth the wait. It tasted even more delicious than normal, because it was so cold outside, and they'd been anticipating the treat for so long.

A few people went over to the Quidditch team members, and started discussing their tactics, but Calista, Amelia, and Tonks huddled off to the side, content with just the hot chocolate.

A pretty Gryffindor girl that had been watching approached Charlie as he emerged from the locker room, back in his regular robes; she caught him up in a hug, and then the two of them kissed. Calista averted her eyes, not sure if she was supposed to have seen that, and trying her hardest not to think of Marcus, not to imagine meeting him when the Slytherin team was finishing  _their_ practise…

"I used to fancy him in the worst way, you know," Tonks mused quietly. Calista and Amelia looked at her in surprise.

"You did?" Amelia asked.

"Yeah," Tonks admitted, "Since my first day of my first year. I tripped, getting off the train, and he helped me up - I was so embarrassed, but he was so nice about it, even helped me pick up all these Chocolate Frogs that fell out of my pockets - I was saving them for later, you know, I wasn't sure if there would be dessert after the feast or not. And then, don't ask me how, but I managed to get separated from the rest of my housemates on the way to the Hufflepuff common room that first night, and I stumbled into the Gryffindors on the way to theirs. Charlie already knew a bit about the castle from his brother, so he helped me."

"That's really nice," Amelia said, "So then you got back to your common room okay?"

"Nah," Tonks said, grinning, "I mean, yeah, eventually, but when we were on the way to it, Charlie asked me if I still had those Chocolate Frogs in my pocket. We wound up eating them in an empty classroom, when everyone else was getting their 'Don't wander into the forest and die' speech from the Prefects. We've been friends ever since then."

Calista snickered. She recalled that speech with perfect clarity, mostly because she had already heard it from her father a dozen times before she even started school.

"Did you ever tell him you liked him?" Amelia pressed.

"No," Tonks said, "I was too scared to. I liked being friends with him, you know? I thought everything was fine the way it was, I wasn't in a hurry to try and make it more complicated."

"And then he started liking  _her_ ," Calista muttered, but she wasn't thinking of the pretty Gryffindor girl that had kissed Charlie Weasley; she was thinking of Endria Folland, and the fact that she'd seen her hanging around Marcus more often than she was comfortable with. But it was stupid to even think of him in that way, wasn't it? If he had a shot with Endria, who was his own age and extremely pretty and popular, there was no way he was going to look at someone like Calista twice.

"It gets worse than that," Tonks said, taking a big gulp of hot chocolate, and then wincing. "Ow, hot."

She glanced at Charlie, who was a short distance away, talking to his girlfriend.

"He asked me out, last year," she said, quietly enough that her voice wouldn't carry beyond their little group of three. "Asked me to sneak out of the castle with him one night to go try and get a drink at the Hog's Head pub. But I was freaked out, I didn't expect him to actually like me, too, and I was afraid that if we went on a date and it didn't work out, we wouldn't be friends anymore… so I said, let's go to Zonko's instead."

"So what happened?" Calista asked.

"We went to Zonko's," she said, "And I got a bunch of Dungbombs instead of a boyfriend. And now he's moved on to Jane Ridley, and that ship's sailed."

"And you're just okay with that?" Calista wondered.

"I accepted it."

"Wow," Amelia said, "That's sad. Did you at least get to use the Dungbombs?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Tonks said, "I hid them in Jane's schoolbag, all the time, whenever I got the chance. I said I  _accepted_  that he was dating her I didn't say I  _liked_ it."

Calista smirked. She wondered if Dungbombs would keep Marcus away from Endria…

"I guess what I'm saying is," Tonks added, "If the boy you've had a crush on for five years suddenly decides to ask you out, don't go to a joke shop instead."

"I don't think I'll ever have to worry about that," Calista said.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Calista still hadn't decided what to do with the letter she'd found in Olivia's things, but she hadn't wanted to let on to Olivia that she knew about it, so she'd copied the relevant parts onto another sheet of parchment that she hid in her old room in her father's quarters, and snuck the original back to where she'd found it.

She'd given her father's words a lot of thought, and she knew he was probably right, that the only way she could stop being a little bit afraid of Olivia, the only way she could stop losing sleep over what would happen if her friends found out who her mother was, would be if  _she_ got it over with and told them herself. But it was easier to realise this than it was to actually follow through on it, so she'd been procrastinating, telling herself she would come up with a plan soon enough.

She had mostly decided that she would go to Narcissa with the contents of the letter, but she was afraid that doing so might lead to a situation where the identity of Calista's mother came out, somehow, particularly if Olivia found out what Calista was up to, and decided to tell everyone to get revenge.

She had initially meant to be studying Transfiguration, but the swirl of thoughts in her mind was proving too distracting. Instead, she was sitting in front of a blank sheet of parchment in the common room, trying to figure out whether she should write anything about the whole situation to her aunt, or just write to her about inconsequential things, instead, when the Quidditch team came through the common room, with a lot of noise.

Distracted, Calista glanced up. Marcus was grinning again… she turned back to the parchment, trying to fight the blush she could feel rising to her cheeks. How was it that she could make the contents of her mind inaccessible to Lucius Malfoy, but she couldn't keep her increasing feelings for Marcus off her face?

_Dear Aunt Narcissa,_

she wrote, but she had no notion of what she should write next.  _'My house mate is a spoiled cow and I think she wants to ruin my life by revealing that my mother is a psychopathic murderer'_ did not quite seem appropriate, especially given that Narcissa did not quite seem to view her sister this way. She toyed with another idea:  _'I think I like a boy, but he fancies a girl that's a million times prettier than I'll ever be, and besides, my father says I'm not allowed to have a boyfriend until I'm thirty'_

Well, she certainly wasn't going to write either of those things. She set her quill down in frustration, just as Marcus walked by her study table.

"Hey, Calista," he said, glancing at the table, where she had her Transfiguration book, as well as the sheet of parchment she'd written only a salutation on. She shoved the parchment to her other side, where he couldn't see it, as if she'd actually written the bit about thinking she liked him, even though she'd only jokingly thought about it. "Studying again?"

"Yeah," she said, quickly. "Transfiguration. Uhm, badgering."

"Maybe we could study together again," he suggested, "Tomorrow, or something?"

Well, she did still need to practise the spell, and it would be an opportunity to spend time with Marcus on solid ground, instead of far above the Quidditch pitch.

"Okay," she said, "I have time after Arithmancy, I think. You could meet me outside of the classroom at four o'clock."

He nodded. "I should be out of Care of Magical Creatures by then," he said. "Seventh floor, right?"

"Yeah. I'll bring my Transfiguration stuff with me, so I'll have it when I get out of class."

One of his teammates called to him then, and he flashed Calista a quick smile before bounding back over to the team to nail down the next practise session. She looked at him for a minute, as long as she trusted herself to without blushing. She remembered thinking he reminded her of a troll her first year, recalled the fact that she had thought he was too thick to be interesting.

Part of her almost wished she could still see him that way. It would be easier, and far less embarrassing… but the more time she had spent with him, the further and further away she got from that initial impression of him. She knew that there were plenty of other boys in the school that girls had crushes on… there was Colin Greengrass, whom even  _she_ had noticed was nice to look at, but she couldn't fancy anyone who would kiss Olivia, not even if he was under the influence of a love potion when he did it.

Besides, she didn't know Colin, or Charlie Weasley, or Derek Logan, or any of the other boys that she knew other girls fancied. She knew a lot of girls thought Conor Quinn was cute, and she supposed she could see it, objectively, and she knew that Kim was mad about Ethan Briggs, but even though she was friendly with both of them, she just didn't think about them in that way.

She wished she wouldn't think about  _anyone_  in a romantic way at all, but the hair-twirling, blushing, broomstick-riding girl inside of her was evidently in charge in that regard… and that girl had decidedly firmly that she liked Marcus, with his crooked, infectious grin, and sincere kindness. And then, there were his eyes, which, though they were grey, were nothing like her mother's, were warm and friendly...and he was tall, which she supposed she was supposed to like, and he looked  _really_  nice in his Quidditch robes...

She wondered if her face was on fire, it felt so warm. She gathered her book and her parchment and quill, intent on retreating to her dormitory room before anyone realised what was going on in her head; she thought wildly that anyone looking a her might be able to figure it out, and anyway, hadn't they already started to? Kim had teased her about it, and now Eva and Sofia were, too.

She glanced around, to see if any of them were in the common room, and were paying any attention to her and her traitorous cheeks. She couldn't help but shoot one more glance at Marcus… and then she scowled. He was talking to Endria again, and she was laughing at something he'd said, and nodding her head. Oh gods, what if he'd just asked her out? And she was saying yes, and what if they were going to start dating, and then whenever Calista spent time with Marcus, he would just want to talk about Endria and how much he liked her… Calista didn't think she could stand it, if that happened.

She clutched her book and her parchment to her chest, and retreated as quickly as she could, practically flying into her dormitory room, and slamming the door closed behind her.

It wasn't  _fair_. Endria was so pretty, with her coffee-coloured skin and shining black hair, and a body that was already starting to curve in place Calista didn't think hers ever would, stupid training bra or no. Worse, Endria was quite popular, with students and teachers alike, and everyone said she was going to be chosen as a Prefect next year.

So why, then, did Endria have to decide to like Marcus, too? She could probably choose any boy she wanted for her boyfriend, any of the other Quidditch players, even. She could go out with Derek Logan, the boy that Olivia was always mooning over, or even Colin Greengrass. Weren't pretty girls like Endria and Olivia only supposed to care about dating popular boys?

Marcus wasn't really popular, and Olivia didn't seem to think he was very cute, so why did Endria have to like him? Why couldn't she leave him for Calista, who didn't think any boy in the whole school would ever fancy her? At least if Endria ignored Marcus, Calista could convince herself that perhaps someday, she'd somehow become prettier, and Marcus would decide that maybe going out with her wouldn't be so bad…

But then, she was being foolish, she told herself, and not only because it didn't look like she'd ever have a chance with Endria around. She tried, sternly, to tell the hair-twirling imbecile in her head that she didn't  _want_  to date a boy who only cared whether she was pretty or not. If she was ever going to go out with someone, it should be someone who liked her for being clever, or funny, or any other of the limited positive qualities that she knew she possessed instead of beauty.

 _Kind of like how I mostly like Marcus because he's so nice, and honest all the time,_ she thought, but she pushed it out of her head.  _And he defends me, and he helped me learn how to fly, and he always offers to study with me_ …

 _Stop it,_  she told herself firmly,  _It's not going to happen. Get over it, and do your bloody homework._

She set her unfinished letter to Narcissa aside, and pulled her Transfiguration book onto her lap, dutifully opening to the section on badgering.


	9. Chapter 9

When Arithmancy class ended on Thursday, students couldn't scramble out of the room fast enough. Calista thought darkly that they were probably all in a rush to begin the daunting homework she'd assigned, a complicated chart that would take at least eight hours to finish. Even the prospect of working on it with Amelia did little to ease the strain of so much impending schoolwork, and evidently Amelia felt the same way, because she muttered to Calista as soon as they had left Professor Vector's earshot.

"By the time I finish this homework, it'll be time for O.W.L.s," she said, rolling her eyes.

"It will come along all right once you start it," Penelope said, "You'll see."

Calista snorted. "Yeah, okay. Because that's what usually happens with her homework, right? We're never in the library until bedtime, flipping through the index of the textbook…"

"Oh, that's right, yes we are," Amelia cut in.

"It's awfully rich of  _you_  two to complain," Percy said sanctimoniously, "As you've essentially each only been doing  _half_  the work."

"Shut up, Percy," Amelia said cheerfully, as the four of them exited the classroom. "If I want someone to scold me, I'll write my mum."

"Calista," Percy said, choosing to ignore Amelia, "Don't forget, you've got to get a mouse to practise badgering on for next Tuesday…"

"Speaking of scolding," Calista muttered. She caught sight of Marcus then, lurking across the hall from the Arithmancy classroom. He caught her eye, with a small smile.

"Try not to let the next one loose in the library," Percy added.

Calista rolled her eyes. "I did that  _one time_."

"Yes, and Madam Pince still hasn't forgiven me, even though  _I_  had nothing to do with it - Can I help you?"

This last bit was directed at Marcus, who had crossed the hall and was sort of hovering near them, uncertainly. Percy's tone hadn't been quite hostile, but it hadn't been particularly friendly, either.

Marcus scowled at Percy. "No. I'm not here to talk to  _you_ , I'm here for Calista."

"Percy's just reminded me," Calista said to Marcus, "I haven't got a mouse to practise on."

"You're not going to practise badgering  _now_?" Percy asked, slightly alarmed, "With him?"

"Yes, I am," Calista said, at the same time Marcus said, "Yeah, she is."

"Is there a problem with that?" Marcus continued, and Calista was surprised that his tone was unfriendly, even a little aggressive. She hadn't heard him talk like that, except perhaps about the opposing Quidditch team just before a match.

Percy exchanged a look with Penelope, and then looked back at Calista, even though it was Marcus who had challenged him.

"Well," he said, a bit hesitantly, "It's just… badgering is awfully dangerous if it's not done correctly. Don't you think it would be more - ah, prudent - to wait until you can practise with someone who's -"

"I know how to turn something into a badger," Marcus cut in, glaring at Percy. "Should I prove it by turning you into one?"

"Perhaps Percy is right - ow!" Penelope began, but Amelia stepped on her foot. "Amelia, what -?"

"I think we need to go, Penny," Amelia said, firmly. "Perce, you too, we have to… uh, we have to study for that thing, remember?"

"What are you…?" Penelope said, looking at Amelia with a furrowed brow. Amelia took Penelope by the elbow, and made a grab for Percy too, hooking his sleeve. She started to pull them away, and she whispered something to Penelope, which Calista couldn't hear.

She  _could_  hear Penelope's surprised "Oh!", as she glanced back over her shoulder at Calista, but then Amelia dragged both of them down the corridor as quickly as she could.

Calista groaned inwardly. Was she really so obvious about her feelings for Marcus that Amelia could tell? And now Penelope knew, too… and Percy. What if  _Marcus_  knew? She looked up at him, trying to read his expression.

He looked a little annoyed, but when Calista met his gaze, he shook his head. "We don't need a mouse," he said, "The spell works the same on pretty much anything, a mouse is just the easiest. We could use an insect, or something. I bet I could find one in one of the corridors somewhere."

"Oh," Calista said, shifting her books to one arm, and reaching into her pocket. "I still have one of the buttons I Transfigured - could I use a beetle, if I changed it back?"

Marcus nodded. "Yeah… I think so. So… the library, then? Or we could try to find an empty classroom."

Calista considered. Did she want to be in an empty classroom with Marcus? She did… and she didn't. What if she said something stupid? But then, she could do  _that_  anywhere, it didn't have to be in an empty classroom...

"Er, well, there shouldn't be anyone in the Arithmancy room," Calista said, looking over her shoulder at the doorway she'd come through only a moment ago. "Unless Professor Vector is still in there, but I think she goes into her quarters after class."

"Yeah, we can check…"

Calista stepped back to the classroom and poked her head in, but Professor Vector was indeed still in the classroom, looking over some papers on her desk. Calista ducked back out before the professor noticed her, and shook her head at Marcus.

"Nah, she's still there," she said quietly, "Let's go to the library, before she decides to give me extra homework, or something."

She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed to be going somewhere they wouldn't be alone, and she couldn't tell what Marcus thought of it, either. Probably he had just wanted to avoid the library - she knew it wasn't exactly his favourite place.

They went into the library anyway, which held only a scattering of Ravenclaws. Madam Pince kept looking among them suspiciously, even though Calista recognized two of them as Prefects who were hardly likely to start, say, releasing mice in the library. She redirected her glare to Calista and Marcus when they entered.

They sat down at a table that wasn't particularly close to either the librarian's desk or the other occupied study table, and Calista set her books down, opening her Transfiguration book to the proper chapter. She fished in her pocket for the button, while Marcus fingered the corner of her Arithmancy book.

"So this stuff's pretty hard, right?" he asked, and Calista looked up, setting the button down on the table.

"Arithmancy? Yeah, I guess so. I mean, it's a lot of homework, but it's interesting."

"Loads of Ravenclaws in your class," he said, "And you, and that Weasley. And that swotty git Boot is always nattering on about it. Must be for really clever people."

"I guess," Calista said again, pointing her wand at the button. She tried to change it back, but nothing happened the first time.

"So you usually study with Weasley, then?"

Calista waved her wand again, and the button changed into a beetle. She cast her Freezing Charm on it before it scuttled away.

"Well, yeah," Calista said, "He's my 'peer tutor', McGonagall said I had to have one."

"She assigned you to work with him, then?"

"Well, she let me pick," Calista said, "From a list. And I sure as hell didn't want to work with Olivia, so I chose Percy."

Marcus frowned, though Calista couldn't begin to guess why. She hoped he wasn't about to give her grief for being friends with a Gryffindor. She got enough of that from Olivia and her minions.

"So… so it's like this, right?" Calista said, waving her wand and pointing it at the frozen beetle. She cast the incantation, and nothing happened.

She tried a few more times, but the beetle just sat there stubbornly, refusing to be anything but a beetle.

"So I guess you'll be hanging out with your Arithmancy friends this weekend, at Hogsmeade," Marcus said, "Weasley, and those Ravenclaws."

"I don't know, I guess so," Calista said, a flash of annoyance hitting her. "What do you care, anyway?" she challenged, "You'll be meeting up with Endria, won't you?"

Marcus furrowed his brow, confused. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe, I guess. If I run into her."

Calista tried the spell again, but she was angry now, and she knew it wasn't helping. Stupid Endria… she wished the other girl was here right now, so she could turn  _her_  into a badger…  _Good luck going out on a date with Marcus_   _then_ ,  _Endria_  she thought savagely.

Marcus drew his own wand suddenly, and aimed it at Calista's beetle. It turned into a badger, one that could only blink mournfully at them, still contained by Calista's Freezing Charm.

"There," Marcus said, "Tell all your clever friends I can too turn things into badgers."

"Yeah, and I can't," Calista snarled. "Thanks for reminding me. I'm…"

And then Endria, of all people, strode into the library, and started asking Madam Pince about a book.

"That's it," Calista said, picking up her things quickly. "I'm going. You… you can deal with the stupid badger, since you're the expert."

She left Marcus behind, looking wounded and more than a little confused. She swept past Endria, who called after her, in a puzzled voice.

"Calista? What's wr-"

"Shut up," Calista said flatly over her shoulder. She hurried down the corridor, away from both of them.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Saturday morning, Severus sat in his office, waiting for Calista to come for her Occlumency lesson. He opened his desk drawer, and took out the picture she'd drawn him for Christmas. He'd been meaning to hang it in his study, or perhaps in the small kitchen in his quarters, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet.

At least, that was the excuse he gave himself, for keeping it in his desk instead, where he seemed to pull it out to look at between classes several times a day. It seemed at once long ago and just the other day that Calista had been as small as she was in the picture, learning to make her first potion.

He wondered if the picture was supposed to take place before she snarled at him for correcting her, or after. Surely it had to be one or the other, because she'd begun snarling at him as soon as she'd begun speaking to him. These days, she snarled a little less, but she also spoke to him a little less, and he wasn't sure if he thought the trade-off was worth it.

Of course, they had Occlumency lessons, but… back then, before she was a student, she'd spent the whole every weekend with him, and every evening besides. Even in her first year, she'd taken a lot of her meals with him, and of course he'd gotten to see her in more than a few detentions, as well.

Now, though… well, he saw her on Saturdays, while he was teaching her Occlumency, and he caught glimpses of her at dinner and during other times of the day. He saw her in Potions class, but he could hardly have a conversation with her in front of the entire class of third year Slytherins. She didn't come by for no reason much anymore, at least not when he was actually free.

She did come to his office with some regularity when he was busy teaching other classes, to leave her wretched little cat drawings… ah, but if he was being honest, didn't he check his drawer every time he came in, to see if she'd left another one? He wondered if she knew he'd been saving them, in the locked second drawer of his study desk.

He supposed he ought to have been pleased that he hadn't had to give her a detention - in fact, no one had this year, which  _still_  surprised him more than it should have - but at least back then, he'd felt a strong sense that she needed him, needed his guidance as well as his understanding.

Now, it didn't seem like she needed much from him - Occlumency lessons, that was true, and he still gave her an allowance, but… he'd almost been relieved when she'd woken him up from a sound sleep at the Malfoys', calling to him because of one of her nightmares. But then, he'd found out that she hadn't been telling him about them, which made him both anxious and a little hurt.

He'd expected, too, that she would need more of his help finding and removing Bellatrix's anchors, but once he'd shown her how, she'd been remarkably quick to find the rest. He'd even thought that she might need his help ultimately expelling those traces of Bellatrix they'd found in her mind, but she'd managed to do it herself, and without even depleting her barriers.

He had always expected that he'd need to keep teaching Calista Occlumency until sometime after she finished at Hogwarts, but she'd been improving rapidly since the end of last school year, more rapidly than he'd initially anticipated when he'd begun teaching her. He wondered, now, if she would reach the limit of what he could teach her  _before_  she graduated… and what would he teach her, then?

He'd complained good-naturedly (he thought) about sacrificing his Saturday mornings to teach her, something which she played at not even being grateful for, but the truth was he enjoyed it; enjoyed teaching her, and enjoyed spending the time with her.

He'd wanted, from the day he had discovered her, terrified and distant, to give her the support and the tools she needed to become brave, strong, independent, academically accomplished… and now she was becoming all of those things, far sooner than he had expected her to, and she had let herself begin to trust more and more people, and suddenly he found himself feeling like little more than a background character in her life.

His reverie was interrupted by the turning of the knob to his study door. He shoved the drawing hastily back into his desk, and closed the drawer, as his daughter entered the office.

"So what do I have to do today?" she asked, "Fight a dragon at the edge of a cliff, while you make sure I'm still keeping my barriers intact?"

"I was thinking we'd work on maintaining your defences while we converse."

"Oh, so I was right, then," she teased. Severus' lip curled, even though if he were being perfectly honest, he was mildly amused at having walked right into her joke.

He motioned her into his study, and they sat opposite each other in the pair of armchairs that were there; the same ones they'd sat in weeks ago, when he'd taught her to remove Bellatrix's anchors from her mind.

He waited until she was settled in her chair, and then sent a tendril of thought towards her, pushing against her first barrier.

"Have you decided what you're going to do with the letter of Miss Avril's that you found?" he asked.

"No small talk with you," Calista observed wryly, "I… no, I haven't, not really. I mean, I guess I'm going to tell Aunt Narcissa about it, but…"

She paused, concentrating on holding him back from breaching her first barrier; it was easier to hold it longer when she focused her attention on it.

"But?" He prompted, pushing against the mental wall.

"Uhm," she said, trying to divide her concentration between the conversation and the attack on her internal defences. "But I still don't… I don't want to tell anyone about  _her_ , and I'm afraid it will come out if I…"

He slid through her first barrier, and approached the second. Calista swallowed.

"If I start anything with Olivia."

She tried something she hadn't before, tried funnelling the strength from her first barrier into her second; she had been channelling the strength from the first two, once they fell, into her third, but she had never tried reinforcing the second one once the first was down.

"I thought you'd realised it was going to come out eventually, anyway," Severus said, forcing his way through her second barricade before she had finished reinforcing it. "That's a good tactic, by the way," he told her, "But you must be quicker about it."

"I'm trying," she growled, feeding the energy from both walls into her third barrier now. This, she was practised at, and she managed to reinforce it before Severus had pushed through, but she could feel him about to breach it; she closed her eyes, trying to remember what he had taught her, drawing more of her reserves into the mental barricade to fortify it.

"Open your eyes," he prodded, and then, once she had done so, "How are your Transfiguration lessons coming?"

"Erm… okay, I guess. I'm still stuck on badgering."

"Look at me," he reminded her, "It's obvious you're resisting an attack when you look away like that."

"Speaking of badgering…" she muttered, but obeyed.

He passed through her final barrier, it having been made marginally easier by eye contact. Still, there was no denying that she was getting stronger, seemingly by the lesson.

"Again," he said, giving her only a few seconds to recover and reassemble her trio of barriers. The second time, after he had gone through her first barrier, she was able to reinforce the second before he breached it, and it took him longer to pass through all three of her mental walls as a result.

"How is badgering going?" he asked, ignoring her smart comment, "Have you managed it yet?"

"No…"

Calista's mind flashed back to her most recent study session with Marcus… she hadn't managed it, had only managed to get herself upset… she pushed that thought hurriedly to the back of her mind, pushed every thought about Marcus she could find as far beneath all of her other memories as she could. Had he noticed? Oh gods, she hoped not.

"Erm," Calista said, hastily changing the subject, "That book you gave me for Christmas, I have a… I have a question about it. Does the same charm behave two different ways, if used with differing intents?"

Severus paused, considering her question. He hadn't expected her to turn the conversation back on him, and he noted that it had given her a few seconds to reinforce her barriers.

"Good," he murmured, approving of the tactic. "Precisely what do you mean by 'differing intents'?

"Like… like a Severing Charm," she said, "If you use it on, say, a piece of fabric, you can sew it back after. But if you… if you try to use it  _on_  someone, like a curse, will it leave a scar?"

"Yes," he answered, "Any spell which is used with the intent to cause injury will leave a scar."

"What if you were trying to cast it on a piece of cloth, but you missed and hit someone by accident?"

"The effects are variable," he said, slipping through her third barrier, despite the reinforcement she'd managed to give it, while he was answering her question. "It may leave a scar, particularly if the caster is angry, or bears ill will toward the unintended target. Or, you may be lucky, and the cut inflicted by it may be able to be cured with a healing spell or potion."

He gave her a second to reinforce her defences, and then attacked the first barrier again.

"Does the caster's proficiency with Charms influence the outcome?" she asked.

"Ah, yes, but not in the way you might expect. If one is particularly skilled in casting charms, it is possible to control the potency of a particular spell - so if you are cutting a bolt of fabric in a room where you know your spell may miss and hit another person, you could potentially assign the spell a strength consistent only with cutting fabric - a bit like using dulled scissors, I suppose."

He cut through her second barrier, and approached the third as she rapidly reinforced it.

"Of course, if your intention was to cause injury," Severus said, "There are several spells better suited to that than a standard Severing Charm."

"Like what?"

"Well," he said, "Think about what you are trying to accomplish. In your case, you would be using Dark magic only to subdue your attacker long enough for you to escape-"

"Are we sure about that?" she asked, smirking. Severus knew she wasn't serious, but he corrected her sternly, anyway.

"Yes, we are," he said, slipping through her final barrier again. "And if you think to forget it, I won't teach you."

"I was joking," she said, but Severus cut her his best no-nonsense glare as she rebuilt her defences.

"Dark magic is not a joking matter," he said, his voice quite serious. "Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps you are not old enough…"

"Dad, come on. I'm not going to go around cursing people. I promise."

"As I was saying, then," Severus said, as they went through the same exercises again, "A Severing Charm does not present the best opportunity for you to escape, as it doesn't inflict particularly deep wounds, even when used offensively. You'd want to use something that would momentarily stun your opponent."

"Like a stunning spell?"

"That is the answer your Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook would give you," he said, with the hint of a sneer, "However, in my opinion, it is wise to have a variety of spells in your arsenal, rather than always depending on the same one."

"So… I  _shouldn't_  use a stunning spell?"

"There are certain situations where it may be appropriate. However, it's worth noting… Among certain practitioners of Dark magic, a penchant for resorting to stunning spells in a duel is considered an indication of a subpar duelist, one who is afraid to use real magic."

"Certain practitioners?" she asked, keenly. "You mean Death Eaters?"

"Yes," Severus said, silkily. "That is precisely what I mean."

There was a heavy pause, and then Severus leaned back in his chair, withdrawing from Calista's mind.

"Our lesson is finished, by the way."

She exhaled, and relaxed her shoulders, betraying the tension she'd been under, trying to block his intrusions.

"So what other spells should I learn, then? Levicorpus? Expulso? The Fiendfyre Curse?"

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Those spells are not in the book I gave you."

"Seriously?" Calista countered, meeting his gaze directly. "You know I'm friends with seventh years, you've been telling the Malfoys all along that you're already teaching me Dark magic, and I  _know_  you don't actually believe I only read the books you've specifically given me. You can't seriously be surprised that I've heard of a few curses."

"More than a few from the sounds of it," Severus said, "And I never said I disapproved."

"I - wait." Calista looked perplexed. "You don't?"

"I've always encouraged your academic pursuits, and you know that I believe an understanding of the Dark Arts is essential to learn proper Defence. Why haven't you ever told me you were interested in studying them?"

"Er," Calista said, "Because I thought I'd be in trouble, obviously."

She looked as though she couldn't quite believe that she wasn't, already.

"There's nothing wrong with studying anything," Severus said, "Anyone who tells you otherwise is afraid of their own lack of self-control."

Calista took this in, and then settled into the position she usually did when she wanted to be comfortable, with her legs drawn up underneath her. "I should have asked you about this stuff ages ago, then," she said.

"What other Dark spells are you aware of?" he asked, curiously. How long had she been studying these things? Or did she remember them from witnessing Bellatrix use them, when she was small?

"Serpensortia," Calista said, "Expulso, Flagrante, Confringo. The Entrail-Expelling Curse, I know what it does although I don't know the incantation. The Thief's Curse, the Tongue-Tying Curse. Then there are all the lesser ones, Locomotor Mortis, Petrificus Totalus, Reducto, those ones. The Slug-Vomiting Charm, although that one  _is_ in the book you gave me. And of course I know about the Unforgivable Curses, from  _her_."

" _Please_ ," Severus said, "Tell me you haven't been writing about all of those in your essays for Professor Flitwick."

"Of course I haven't," Calista said, almost scornfully. "I'm not daft. I know I'm not  _supposed_ to know about all those spells. Besides, I… it's not like I've ever cast any of them. I don't even know if I  _could_."

"I'd advise you to continue to keep your studies secret, from anyone but myself," he said. "I may have a few books I can lend you - if you haven't already read them without my permission," he added, with a touch of annoyance. "Permission I would have gladly given you, had I been asked."

She at least had the grace to look contrite, and that softened him a little. He glanced at the clock in his study.

"I believe most of your peers are already in Hogsmeade," he said, "I assume you'd like to join them, while there are still a few hours left?"

Normally, Calista would have been anxious for her lesson to end so she could join her friends, but today, her mind flashed back to the argument she'd had with Marcus about Hogsmeade. She didn't think she could stand to run into him and Endria there. She wondered if he'd be making those stupid eyes at her, the ones Olivia used to make at Colin Greengrass, and now made at Derek Logan instead.

"I'd rather just stay here, talking to you, if that's okay," Calista said.

Severus regarded her for a moment, and then he rose, and perused the bookshelves in his study.

"Of course you may stay," he said, and he wondered if she had any idea how pleased her question had made him, in light of his earlier musings. "Let me find you those books now, then."

After a few minutes, he plucked a book off the shelves, and handed it to Calista.

 _The Nature of Curses_ , it was called, and it appeared to be about just that. When Calista turned to the back of the book to check the index, it looked like it had most of the curses Calista had just mentioned, and a few others besides, identified by various categories, such as Mobility-Impairing, and Blood-Drawing.

He continued to peruse his bookshelves, and after another minute, pulled another volume down and handed this one to her, too.

"Guide to Advanced Occlumency?" she asked, surprised. "Am I… am I nearing an advanced level, then?"

Severus smirked. "Calista… you've been practising 'advanced' Occlumency since you were eleven."

"What? I  _have_?"

"Multilayered defences," Severus said, "Shifting the order of your memories around when under attack - yes, I've noticed you do that, though I try not to look at what they are - redirecting emotional responses to memories other than the one they originate with… All of those things are considered advanced."

"They are? What's basic Occlumency, then?"

"Shutting down your emotions," he said, "Hiding your memories behind a single wall."

"But I… I did that when I was six."

"You did," Severus agreed, "Although not always with conscious effort. The problem with basic occlumency is that it only protects you from basic attacks, or attacks that are carried out from a great physical distance away. Furthermore, it appears that occlumency works differently between people who are closely related by blood, as well. I can infiltrate your mind quite easily, or I could before I began training you in advanced tactics, and it seems that Bellatrix shares the same advantage."

Well, it appeared to him that Bellatrix had an even greater advantage in this realm than he did, but he didn't see how he could explain  _that_  to her, without disclosing the memory that he did not think she was ready to reacquire, and without terrifying her into having another nightmare.

"So… so how good am I, now?" she asked, "In relation to, you know, the average occlumens, or whatever."

"There is no  _average_  occlumens," Severus said, "Or average legilimens, for that matter. It's a very obscure and difficult branch of magic, and not many people bother to learn it. As for how accomplished you are, I can only relate it to your goal, which is to be safe from Bellatrix and, should it ever come to it, the Dark Lord. In this regard, you are not accomplished enough."

"I'd have to be ridiculously accomplished to ever be able to keep the Dark Lord out of my mind, wouldn't I?"

She sounded daunted, uncertain that it was a goal she could reach; he wondered if he should tell her that it was likely Bellatrix would ultimately be the more difficult one to guard against, given the trifecta of their shared blood, the scars on Calista's back, and the fact that Bellatrix had already occupied her mind once before, and understood its layout.

He settled for telling her another truth instead. "You will need to become one of the top three Occlumens in the world."

"Who are the other two?"

"Albus Dumbledore," he said, "And myself."

"I'm  _never_ going to be that good," she said, "It's impossible."

"Ah, not quite," Severus corrected her. "It will be exceedingly, unfathomably, frustratingly difficult. For you, though, I believe it will fall just short of impossible. I would suggest you start by reading that book."

She ran her fingers over the embossed title on the cover; Severus' sharp eyes did not miss the way she lingered over the word 'advanced', and he had to suppress a smile. Sometimes he forgot how very like him she actually was.

"One more thing," he said, "For obvious reasons, you are not to remove those books from my quarters. You must come here to read them."

Calista flashed a sly, crooked little smile at him. "Ha! You miss me. You're just trying to get me to spend more time with you, aren't you?"

"You know," he said, affectionately, "That may well be the case, you precocious little brat."

Her smile transformed into a full-wattage grin. "I love you too, Dad."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

When Calista returned to the Slytherin common room, an hour or so before the rest of the third year and above students were scheduled to return from Hogsmeade, she was in good spirits. She had been bolstered by her father's appraisal of her occlumency skill, and by the fact that she had been given permission to read two new books that both seemed very interesting to her.

Being able to admit that she was studying Dark Magic - though of course, she was not casting it - was a bit of a relief, too. Now she supposed she didn't need to worry that he would find out about the book Kim had given her for Christmas.

If she was being honest, she was also pleased with one other aspect of her conversation with her father; it seemed they'd returned to their customary affectionate banter, and that was something she was far more comfortable with than heartfelt conversations like the one they'd had in his kitchen a few months back.

It had been hard, then, to say how she felt - but for some reason, when he was looking at her like he wanted to hug her and strangle her simultaneously, and calling her a miserable brat, or something like it - for some reason,  _then_ , it was easy for her to tell him she loved him. She supposed it reminded her of the way their relationship had been, several years ago, when she'd first begun to trust him.

She had these things on her mind when she entered the Slytherin common room. It was fairly empty, because most of the older students were still at Hogsmeade. She glanced around to see if Sofia or Eva were about, but it didn't appear as if they were, there were only a couple of Olivia's favourite second years, and that first-year boy Alex, and -

And Marcus Flint. He was hunched over a sheaf of paper, bent over it with intense concentration while he wrote something on it. She was so surprised to see him in the common room then, that she forgot she was cross with him, and went over to him, trying to get a look at what he was writing - or drawing, as it turned out. It appeared to be some kind of diagram, with a scattering of x's placed inside a large oval.

"Hey," she said, "Did you come back from Hogsmeade early?"

"Huh?" Marcus looked up, and registered surprise at seeing her. His expression transitioned into uncertainty, next, and he shook his head. "No, I… decided not to go."

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I just didn't feel like it… what are  _you_  doing here, I thought you'd gone, with your friends from that class."

"No," she said, "I had extra lessons with my dad, and I didn't feel like bothering afterwards. So… what's that you're drawing?"

"Oh," Marcus said, and he seemed slightly cheered, "It's a Quidditch play. I'm going to be Captain next year, so I thought… well, I thought I'd update the playbook a bit, and since I had some time today, I figured, why not start now?"

Ah, Quidditch. That explained his sudden upswing in mood. "You  _really_  like Quidditch, don't you?" she asked.

"You really like Arithmancy, don't you?" he countered.

"It's interesting, like I said," she said, sliding into the seat opposite him. This, just talking about regular things, with no sign of Endria Folland anywhere around, felt like the way things always used to be with him, and she realised she sorely missed it. If she could just stop thinking about how nice it had felt to be sitting on the broomstick with him, perhaps it could stay this way…

 _Well, fuck,_  Calista thought, borrowing one of Kim's favourite words, although she didn't think she'd dare say it out loud, like Kim often did,  _Too late for that, isn't it?_ What the hell had she been talking about, before she'd made the mistake of thinking about that? Oh, yes. Arithmancy.

"It's not my favourite class," she said.

"Yeah?" Marcus asked, setting his quill down. "What is, then? Advanced Arithmancy? Super Advanced Arithmancy?"

She snorted. "Okay, the second one is a N.E.W.T. level class," she said,"And the third one, you just made up. Arithmancy isn't my favourite subject at all, it's not even in my top three."

"Right," Marcus said, tapping his forehead. "That was daft of me, I forgot. Potions must be your favourite. What are the other two, then?"

"Charms and Ancient Runes," she said. "I'm not even sure if I like Potions or Charms better, actually, but you definitely can't tell my dad I said that."

"Don't worry, I definitely won't," Marcus said stoutly, and then: "I guess I should have guessed Charms, too. Your Freezing Charm is wicked."

For some reason, this made her blush, even though Percy had once told her more or less the same thing. She didn't think it was a thing that Marcus would have noticed.

"Uhm… thanks."

They made eye contact then, and somehow wound up holding it for several seconds, until Calista looked hastily away, afraid that he'd be able to see something in her gaze that she didn't want him to. As much as she hated the idea of him possibly dating Endria, she didn't want to lose her friendship with him, and she was afraid that was what might happen if he ever realised how she felt about him.

Marcus sighed, and picked up his quill, dropping his own gaze back to the diagram in front of him.

"I'll, uhm… I'll let you work on that, I guess." Calista said, getting up from her chair. "I'll… I'll see you later, Marcus."

"Yeah," he said, somewhat flatly. "See you, Calista."

Calista went to her dormitory room, thinking sourly that a crush was the most useless thing to have. What was the point, when it was never going to go anywhere?


	10. Chapter 10

On Calista's birthday, of all days, she managed to turn a mouse into a badger. At Percy's insistence, she was now meeting him twice a week. He seemed to feel that her progress in Transfiguration was now a direct reflection on his tutoring abilities, and he was as bossy as Professor McGonagall. Still, she couldn't deny that she was pleased to finally get the transformation right.

It took her several more weeks to get the transfiguration to come out properly with any sort of consistency, and she found that, oddly, she still had to resort to mentally berating the mouse, and ordering it to change. She couldn't wait to tell Marcus; he'd been the one to tell her that he didn't think being angry would help her with anything besides curses, and it looked like he was wrong. She'd proven that to herself with the matchstick over the summer, and with nearly every Transfiguration spell she'd attempted since then.

By the time Easter break approached, she had been advised by Professor McGonagall to move onto turning a bird into a goblet. That was the thing Calista loved about Occlumency, and hated about Transfiguration: As soon as she'd grasped one thing, she was relentlessly pushed onto the next. Occlumency was a fun challenge, because even though it was difficult, it felt attainable. transfiguration, on the other hand, felt merely draining.

Three days before Easter break, Olivia cornered her in the girls' lavatory off the Slytherin common room.

"Hello,  _Snapelet_ ," she said, "Have you been avoiding me? I haven't seen much of you lately."

"Of course I've been avoiding you," Calista said warily. "We don't like each other, remember?"

Olivia waved her hand carelessly. "Don't be so childish. What were we even arguing about, anyway? It can't have been important."

"You're mental," Calista said, "You're absolutely bloody mad. You can't seriously be trying to pretend we're going to be friends again, after everything you've done to me."

Olivia raised her eyebrows coolly. "Done to you? That's rich."

Calista wondered if Olivia was suffering from an utter disconnect from reality, if she really wanted to have this conversation  _again_. Calista didn't, that was for certain.

"Whatever, Olivia. Get out of my way."

"My mother wants you to come visit us in Bearsden for Easter break," Olivia said smoothly, as if they had been having small talk.

"Oh, I'll bet she does," Calista snarled, shoving past Olivia. Olivia grabbed her sleeve on the way by, clutched the material in her fist, and put her face close to Calista's, narrowing her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know bloody well what it's supposed to mean," Calista said, "Now let go of me, before I hex you."

"Go ahead and try," Olivia said, "I'll turn you into a fly, and crush you."

"Careful," Calista said, "Don't let your mother hear you say that."

"Don't let  _your_  mother find out you're hanging around with a bunch of Mudbloods," Olivia countered.

"Shut up!" Calista howled, and she wrenched her sleeve free from Olivia. She knew she should have left the lavatory, but Olivia had sparked something. She could feel rage pulsing within her, rage for all of the things her mother had ever done to her… but her mother wasn't here, and Olivia was, and she was invoking Calista's mother as a casual threat when she had  _no idea_  the effect it had on her… or perhaps she did, and that was even worse.

"You  _shut up_  about my mother, or I  _will_  curse you, I swear I will. I'll make your tongue fall right out of your fat, prissy head. Good luck getting Derek to go on a date with you, without a tongue!"

She added the last bit almost childishly, because she didn't know how else to wound Olivia. All she seemed to care about were her family's position, her own status at school, and boys. Calista chose the easiest target.

Strangely, though, Olivia's face lit up, and she smiled sweetly. "Oh, I don't care about Derek anymore," she said, "I've decided I like Marcus, now. Don't you think we'd make an excellent couple?"

Calista stepped back, feeling like she'd been taken a Blasting Curse to the gut.

"No you don't," she said, weakly. "You think he's a troll."

"I used to think that," she agreed, "But lately, hm…did you know, he's going to be Quidditch captain next year? Yes, I think going steady with the Slytherin Quidditch captain would suit me nicely, don't you?"

"I hate you," Calista whispered, because she didn't know what else to say. "You're horrible."

"Oh," Olivia batted her eyelashes, affected a falsely sweet surprise. "Did you fancy him, too, Calista? How… adorably naive."

"I don't fancy him," Calista said, without conviction, turning to leave. She refused to let Olivia see how much her words were hurting her, fought to make her voice sound disinterested. "I don't even care. Do what you want."

"Oh, well, that's good," Olivia said, her words following Calista out. "I'd  _hate_  to see you get hurt. You must realise pursuing him would have been a lost cause… I mean, you may have gotten a haircut and some nice clothes, but you're still not pretty, I'm afraid. Boys do care about that."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Partly because she was interested in the books her father had lent her, and partly to avoid both Olivia and Marcus, Calista began spending a lot of time in her father's office, and his quarters. She mostly read in his office, while he was teaching, so that if he came into his office between classes, they could chat for a few minutes - once she had gotten into the books, she had a lot of questions about their content.

When he wasn't teaching, she looked for him in his quarters, and if he was around, they talked sometimes instead of her reading. Most of the time, their conversations began with topics from the books he'd lent her, but they often evolved into something more, and something strange began to happen.

Always, in the past, if they spoke about personal things, it would be Severus asking Calista the questions - after all, he had missed out entirely on the first five years of her life, and it seemed natural that he would be curious. But Calista didn't much like to talk about things that had happened  _before_  Severus had found her at the orphanage, so she tended to shut down those conversations quickly.

However, it occurred to Calista while she was spending so much of her free time with him again, that she was largely unaware of the first twenty-odd years of  _his_  life. She knew what he was like now, but she didn't really know much of what he'd been like when he was her age, what he had done in his spare time before he'd taken on the burden of caring for her.

She remembered the day, earlier this school year, when she'd asked him why he was upset, and he'd opened up to her about unruly students in his class, and the fact that he'd been rejected from the Defence Against the Dark Arts post by someone who was much less qualified. She'd actually liked listening to him, felt glad that he had confided in her.

She thought it made sense that he hadn't talked to her about things like that when she was younger; after all, she probably wouldn't really have understood, and besides, she knew she'd been something of a selfish child - how could she not be, when self-preservation had always seemed of such critical importance? But she  _was_  older now, and had at least some capacity for empathy… as Percy would say, she was less of a prat, now.

There was a passage in  _The Nature of Curses_  that alluded to the fact that it would be difficult to curse someone that you loved, because the love the caster felt for the target would likely interfere with the anger and desire to cause harm that was required for a successful curse. She was reading it in his study, and a dark thought crept into her head. She said it out loud, looking over the top of her book, to where her father sat in the chair opposite her, reading essays from his O.W.L. class.

"Well, I guess my mother never loved me," she said, and she'd meant it to come out as a dark joke, but her voice came out sounding far more forlorn than she'd meant it to. "Or she wouldn't have been able to curse me, all those times."

Severus lowered the essay he was reading, and regarded her carefully. "Calista," he said, quietly. "I don't believe she ever had the capacity to love anyone. Most…" he sighed, lowering the papers further. "Most Death Eaters don't. Didn't."

She closed her book, keeping her page marked with her finger. Her other hand traced the letters on the cover, absently. "But you do…"

"Yes."

A question occurred to her suddenly, one that was remarkable, in that it had absolutely nothing to do with herself. "You told me, once, that you never loved my m- loved Bellatrix. But… did you ever love anyone else? In… in a romantic way, I mean?"

Severus was silent for a minute. He stood up, and set the papers he'd been reading on the desk against the wall. He had long ago decided not to lie to her; he hadn't expected her to ask about  _this_  when he'd determined that, but it didn't change his decision.

"Yes," he said, "I did."  _I do,_ he thought.

"So then," she asked, "Why didn't you marry her?"

His jaw worked. There were a million answers he could give her; he wondered which would shut down this line of questioning the quickest.

"She… didn't share my feelings," he said, curtly.

He didn't want to talk about this with his daughter… but then, he had never really talked about it, not since everything had happened… and if he had ever wanted to - which he was not sure that he did - who  _else_  would he talk to about it? As far as personal confidantes went, Calista was really all that he had. The fact that she was just barely fourteen years old, and that he was responsible for her welfare often prevented him from being completely forthcoming with her, but she would not be a child forever.

Didn't he wish, in some tiny part of himself, that she would someday grow into a person that he could share things with? Didn't he hope that, when she did grow up, they would be close friends? He had no idea if this was a normal thing for a parent to wish; certainly his own father hadn't. But he already had a sense that he and Calista were much closer than the average parent and child, so perhaps they had their own metric.

"That's insane," Calista said, sincerely, "Why not?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

That wasn't precisely true, but Calista was too young to understand the nuances of his relationship with Lily; all the places he had gone wrong, and all the places where she perhaps hadn't quite given him a fair chance. But it didn't matter now. He had done his crime, and he would be paying for it, for longer than Calista could possibly understand.

"Who is she?" Calista asked, and Severus felt his heart freeze at her next question. "Is she someone I know?"

He had possibly never wanted to lie to her more than he did in that moment. The chances that she would guess were incredibly slim, she had known Lily only briefly when she was quite small. But…

He remembered that Calista had wished, once, that someone like Lily was her mother, instead of Bellatrix. And he and Calista - they  _were_  so similar. If anyone, ever, would guess, it would be her.

"I don't wish to discuss this anymore," he said, with finality.

She was quiet for a minute, and then she said, softly, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? You haven't done anything. I merely wish to discuss something else, now."

"I don't know," Calista admitted, "You just seemed really sad. It seemed appropriate to say 'I'm sorry'."

He studied her. She seemed quite sincere; it was not the first time recently that he had been surprised by her empathy. It was a quality that he had once presumed she lacked; and perhaps she had, but it didn't seem as if that were the case any longer. Certainly, she had not learned it from her mother. He wondered if she had somehow managed to learn it from him, from the way that he always tried to treat her, or if she had learned it from her friends, who were not always as forgiving of her aggression and mood swings as he was.

"I didn't think that being in love with someone was supposed to make you sad," she said, thoughtfully, after silence had stretched between them for more than a minute.

Severus laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, it does," he said, "It most certainly does."

"Uhm," Calista said, "Why does anyone do it, then?"

"Because we aren't usually given a choice."

"That's cheerful."

"Quite. It shouldn't concern you anyway," Severus said, and for once he was the one desperate to steer their conversation back into the safety of sarcastic teasing, "As you won't be considering any romantic prospects until you're thirty, remember?"

He waited for the inevitable eyeroll, the scowl, the stubborn insistence that she'd be considering romantic prospects precisely  _never_. He remembered what Draco had said at Christmas, and wondered if she'd bring up the same points now: not wanting to have to cook, or share her room.

None of those things happened. Instead, she fell silent, and shifted uncomfortably in her chair, eyes suddenly fixed on the cover of the Occlumency book in her lap.

"Has something interesting happened to the cover of that book?" he asked, and the teasing note had left his voice completely. "You seem particularly interested in it all of a sudden."

She glanced up, but wouldn't hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds; once, he would have been able to read her thoughts in that time, but not anymore.

"Uhm," she said, "No… I'm just… erm, I'm tired. I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Calista, it's four o'clock in the afternoon."

"I have… homework," she said, standing and setting the Occlumency book down on the seat of the chair. She made to leave the study.

"No, you don't," he replied, and something in his voice warned her against leaving.

"How would  _you_  know?" she countered.

"Lucky guess," he said, as if it were anything but, and then, "Calista, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

"In the  _history_  of parenting," Calista wondered, "Has that question  _ever_  worked?"

"Is there?" he pressed.

"It's like the parents' version of 'It's not fair'," she continued, ignoring his question.

"Calista…" he said, a note of warning in his voice.

" _No_ ," Calista said, "There's nothing I want to tell you. Can I go now?"

Severus frowned. "Very well," he said, grudgingly. He watched her leave the study, heard the door to his flat open and close, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Perhaps he had merely embarrassed her by bringing up the topic of romantic prospects, even in a facetious way. Certainly, it wouldn't be the first time that she'd refused to discuss it… but there was something different in the way she'd reacted this time, something that left him with too many unanswered questions, and a sneaking suspicion that he would need to scare the bloody shit out of a teenage boy very, very soon.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

As usual, Olivia was as good as her word. Nearly every time that she and Marcus were in the common room at the same time, she made a point to speak to him, generally with a great deal of accompanying eyelash-fluttering. Calista thought she looked ridiculous; she hoped Marcus thought so, too.

At least he didn't seem to be particularly interested in her. If anything, he typically looked wary when she approached him, but Calista had filled him in on some of the ways Olivia had backstabbed her in the past, so she supposed it wasn't surprising that he seemed to suspect she was up to  _something_.

Of course, Calista had only stuck around to see Marcus' reaction to Olivia's flirtations a handful of times. Most of the time, when it began, she left as quickly as she could. She usually went to hide in her father's office, but if it was past curfew, she simply went to her dormitory room, and stared up at her ceiling while imagining all the hexes she'd cast on Olivia if she could.

More than once, Calista had come very close to actually hexing her, but she was stopped, always, by the prospect of serving a detention with her father - and not because of the detention itself, but because she knew she'd have to tell him what had provoked her towards earning it.

Two weeks after classes had resumed following Easter break, the Slytherin common room was a hive of excited activity concerning the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw's best Chaser had been injured during practise, and was likely to miss the match, which would give the Slytherins the advantage.

Calista was in the common room, writing a letter to her aunt; the same one, in fact, that she had been unable to finish weeks ago. She'd finally decided simply to write about her classes, her upcoming exams, and her plans to bring some different potions ingredients for Draco to try out with her the next time she went to visit. She wasn't ready, still, to talk to her aunt about anything important, but she didn't want Narcissa to think she was avoiding writing to her, either.

She was beginning to think writing the letter out in the common room had been a bad idea, however. Admittedly, she'd known everyone would be talking about the Quidditch match, and asking the players all sorts of questions about their strategy… Calista was never a part of such things, but she'd decided to listen, and watch… well, truth be told, she was only watching one person in particular… but Olivia was  _still_  trying to get his attention, and Calista found that she was clenching her jaw without meaning to. It didn't help that Endria was part of the crowd, too.

"The team is  _so_ lucky you're going to be Captain next year, Marcus," she was simpering, and she laid her hand on his forearm casually. "You'll be as brilliant a Captain as you are a Chaser, I'm sure."

"Er," Marcus said, looking down at her hand. "Thanks."

Calista imagined sticking her quill in one of Olivia's pretty blue eyes.

"Hey, Marcus," Endria said, "Can you come here a minute? I have to ask you something about Divination…"

Marcus extricated himself from Olivia, and went over to Endria, though it didn't look like she had a textbook or anything out. They spoke quietly for a minute, and Endria glanced back at Olivia a few times. Calista wondered if she was jealous of Olivia trying to flirt with Marcus. Maybe the two of them would get into a duel, Calista thought hopefully, and they'd finish each other off.

Marcus nodded to Endria, and glanced back; then he smiled, and stepped back towards the crowd, back towards Olivia…

Except, he kept walking, past Olivia, past the edge of the buzzing throng of students. Most of them just kept talking to the other Quidditch players, but Endria and Olivia both had their eyes on Marcus. Well… so did Calista, and it appeared to be Calista that Marcus was heading towards, because he kept coming, towards the table she was sitting at with her half-written letter.

For perhaps one second, Calista thought wildly that Marcus was going to come over to ask her out; she wondered frantically what she would do if he did, but only one thought came into her head.

 _Don't go to a joke shop_.

Tonks; Calista bit her lip, to keep from chuckling. All right, then, she wouldn't do  _that_.

But she never found out what Marcus was going to say, because Olivia reached for his shoulder, and when he half-turned to see who had stopped him, she stepped right up to him, and kissed him, right on the mouth.

Calista couldn't stand to see what happened next; she grabbed her parchment, balling it up in her fist, and ran to her dormitory, no longer caring who saw her, and what they interpreted her actions to mean.

Yes, she liked Marcus. She liked him a whole lot, and she couldn't  _not_ like him no matter how hard she tried. What the hell was she supposed to do  _now_? It was bad enough suspecting that he and Endria fancied each other; it was another thing entirely to actually see  _Olivia_  of all people kiss him.

Olivia, who probably had already kissed other boys, probably knew exactly what she was doing… was a million times prettier than Calista would ever be, and was brilliant at Transfiguration, too. She was even a good flyer. Calista wondered bitterly if she'd join the Quidditch team next year, so the two of them could be together all the time. Would Marcus start making fun of her, taunting her about her mother, too?

Calista tossed the half-finished letter to Narcissa aside, and withdrew a fresh sheet of parchment. She scribbled furiously, writing the letter she needed to before she lost her nerve.

_Dear Aunt Narcissa,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written sooner. There's something that's been bothering me that I've been meaning to tell you about, but I wasn't sure how. The girl in my class, the one I told you about before, Olivia Avril, has been making my life miserable this year._

_She teases me, but I can deal with that. There are other things going on, though. I found a letter her mother sent her where she was encouraging Olivia to try and be my friend so she could use me to try and gain social standing for her family. Her mother knows I'm related to you, and she thinks you and Uncle Lucius will help her family somehow if Olivia's friends with me… except she doesn't really want to be friends with me, she's been trying to ruin my life since we met, and I'm tired of it._

_I know none of this makes much sense, and perhaps I should have told you about the letter sooner, at Christmas, but I wasn't sure if I should._

_There's something else, too - and you said I could talk to you, so please don't tell my dad, but there is a boy that I like and I think Olivia's gone and ruined that, too. I guess it's not important to tell you that, but it's the reason I feel so awful right now._

_I hope you can write back to me soon. Especially if you can write horrible things about Olivia._

_Sincerely,_

_Calista_

She had just finished writing her letter, and was sealing it, when the door of the dormitory room opened. She looked up, knowing she had something akin to murder in her eyes, expecting to launch herself furiously at Olivia, if she was the one who came through the door.

It wasn't Olivia, though. It was Emily.

"Hey," Emily said softly, perching on the edge of her bed, which was next to Calista's.

"Go away, Em. I'm not in the mood to play Gobstones, or whatever."

"I don't want to play Gobstones, either," Emily said, "I'm actually here because… Calista, Marcus is standing outside our door. He wants to talk to you, he asked me to see if you'd come out."

"Well, I won't," she said. "Tell him to go away, so I can go to the Owlery. I have something to send."

Emily frowned, and hesitated.

"Tell him to go away," Calista repeated, firmly. "I don't want to talk to him."

Emily sighed, and went to the door dutifully. She stepped outside of it, and Calista could hear a murmured conversation, but couldn't make out the words. After a minute, Emily came back.

"Well, did he go away?"

Emily nodded, and fixed her eyes on a point on the wall.

"Calista…" Emily said, "There's something… Olivia will be mad I told you, but you'll find out soon enough anyway, everyone in the common room saw it…"

"I know what happened," Calista snarled, "I don't care. She can… she can  _have_  him."

Damn it. Why,  _why_  did her voice have to tremble, when she said that? What the hell was she taking all these Occlumency lessons for, if she couldn't manage to shut her emotions down when she wanted to?

"After she… you know, after she kissed him -"

"Shut up," Calista said, and put her hands over her ears, letting the letter fall onto her bed.

Emily rolled her eyes, and strode over to Calista. She reached for Calista's wrists, and Calista yelped and started, when Emily pulled them away from Calista's ears.

"I'm sorry!" Emily said quickly, "I just… I just think you should listen. Marcus pushed her away, Calista. He said… he told her to stop, because there's someone else he likes."

"Yeah," Calista said, "Endria Folland. So they can fight over him, then."

"He didn't say who it was," Emily said, "But he wants to talk to  _you_  right now, not Endria."

"So he can tell me that he likes Endria, in case I ever get the same idea as Olivia? I don't think I need to hear that."

"Okay." Emily sighed. "I can't… just go mail your letter, Calista. Forget I said anything, all right?"

"Gladly," Calista muttered, and she picked up her letter again, and took it out of the room. She braced herself to run into Marcus in the corridor outside her dormitory room, prepared to bolt back inside if he was there, but the corridor was empty.

She practically ran out of the common room, with her head ducked low so she wouldn't have to see who was in there, wouldn't have to face any of them teasing her about the way she'd run out of the room when Olivia kissed Marcus…

Once she had cleared the common room, she felt the hot pinpricks of tears threatening to flood her eyes. She let a few of them fall, let herself feel the sting of them for a couple of minutes, but by the time she reached the bottom of the stairwell to the Owlery, she wiped them resolutely away.

She climbed the stairs, and located her father's owl, just as the last bit of sun disappeared beyond the horizon. She attached her letter, and carried the bird carefully to the window, where it flew off, a black shape against a lavender sky.

Then, she heard careful footsteps behind her. She turned, instantly alert, even though no one had attacked her in a long time…

"Calista?"

It was Marcus. He stepped forward; he must have been lurking on the other side of the tower, watching her send her letter.

"What are  _you_  doing here?" she snarled, pleased that she at least managed to sound cross, instead of crushed.

"I… Emily told me you were going to meet me here, to talk," he said, uncertainly.

Calista blinked. "Emily lied," she said. "I told her to tell you to go away, because I had a letter to send and I didn't want to talk to anyone on the way."

"Well, you've already sent it," Marcus said, sensibly. "You're not on the way anymore, so can we talk now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I already know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it."

"You… don't? I mean, you do? I mean..." he paused, shook his head. "I'm confused, now."

"You can go marry Endria," she said sourly, trying to gather enough resolve to storm past him, "Or Olivia. I don't care."

"Hang on," Marcus said, "I only just turned fifteen, I'm not going to go  _marry_  anybody. But even if I was… why would I marry either one of them? Calista, I don't  _like_ Olivia. I had nothing to do with… with what she did."

"Well, fine, Endria, then," she said, but she felt too weak to even be angry anymore.

Even if he did fancy Endria, it wasn't like he was being mean to her. He was trying to explain it to her, so her feelings wouldn't be hurt. It was sweet… completely ill-advised, but sweet.  _Exactly the sort of thing I like him for_ , she thought hopelessly.

"I don't like Endria like that, either."

"What? Of course you do - you said she was pretty. No - you said she was 'a right stunner'," Calista said, hearing the trace of bitterness in her words. She should have just gathered her nerve at the very beginning of this conversation, and left.

"Yeah," Marcus said, sounding puzzled. Calista was sort of glad for the dim light, so she couldn't quite see his face. It made it a little easier, that way. "I did say that, but don't you remember what I said  _after_  that?"

"No," she said, "What, then? Something about how she's going to be a Prefect next year? Everyone says she is."

"Calista," Marcus said, and he sounded exasperated. "I didn't come here to talk about Endria. I said… I said that bit about her being a looker, which was probably dumb, and then I said, 'but she's not really the kind of girl I want' and you couldn't get away from me fast enough...you grabbed all your stuff and you ran away…"

"That was… that wasn't because of you. Olivia… she put something in my book, something she knew would make me upset."

"Well," Marcus said, "She has some timing, then. I thought for sure you knew exactly what I meant and you were letting me know what you thought… but then, every time I kept hanging out with you, you were blushing and… and playing with your hair and stuff…"

Calista winced. He  _had_  noticed all of that. She wanted to disappear. She wished she'd attached  _herself_  to that owl.

"And my dad says that's how you can tell a girl likes you, so I thought… well, maybe you were just shy, maybe I needed to make it really clear how I felt, so I asked you what you were going to do in Hogsmeade. I thought maybe I could buy you a butterbeer or something, or hell, we could even go to that bookstore you always go to with your friends, I don't care. But you weren't listening to me, and when I asked you what you were thinking about, you said 'Transfiguration', which I know you hate, so you must've  _really_  not wanted to listen to me to be thinking about that."

"Marcus…" Calista said, and she thought her voice sounded like it was made of glass, fragile and transparent. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Marcus said, and Calista was surprised to hear nerves in his voice, too. "That I like you. I mean… I  _like_  you, you know?"

He swallowed nervously when she didn't say anything immediately, and continued. "I'm probably mucking this up. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be saying… my dad said I should just give you flowers, but somehow that didn't really seem like your sort of thing."

Calista found her voice. "Is this… is this some kind of sick joke?" she asked, quietly. "Is Olivia going to come out from behind you and start laughing at me, or something?"

"Huh?" Marcus said, "Calista, I'd never do that to you."

She believed him. He'd never… in all the time she'd known him, he'd never once been mean to her, not for one second, not even when she'd been mean to him. Calista felt something like the same flutter she always got around him, except this time it seemed to be expanding inside of her, swelling bigger and bigger, giving her a warm, tingly feeling from her toes all the way up to the top of her head. Calista wasn't sure if she was going to laugh, or cry, or just wake up. This wasn't a dream, was it?

"Will you  _please_  say something?" Marcus prompted, "I think I'm going to be sick if you don't."

"I…" Why did  _this_ suddenly seem a hundred times more difficult than Occlumency lessons? Marcus  _liked_  her. He actually  _liked_ her. And all she had to do was tell him she liked him too, and then… well, and then what? She had no idea.

"I like you, too." she said, quickly.

Marcus breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I was afraid maybe you still didn't. I would have felt like such an idiot. I wasn't even going to say anything… but then Endria, she kept telling me I should, and Kim and Conor and… well, pretty much the whole Quidditch team said I should."

"Wait," Calista said, "What do you mean… the whole Quidditch team?"

"Yeah, I'm not very good at secrets," Marcus said, "They all know. I made them swear not to tell you, though. Said I'd break their broomsticks if they did."

Calista laughed, finally releasing some of the tension that had built up in her gut.

"That sounds like something  _I_ would say," she said.

"Nah," Marcus said, "I've heard you, you'd threaten to hex them. See, I'm not so good at that, either, so I just threaten to break stuff."

"So… so what do we do now?" Calista wondered. "I mean… I'm all for living in the Owlery so we never have to face everyone in the common room again…"

Marcus chuckled. "I don't care about that part. We'll go back together, and if anyone tries to give you a hard time… well, I'll break faces, if I have to."

"What about," Calista said, because this had just occurred to her, "What you said, before? You said… you said you were afraid of my dad. I'm, uhm… kind of not allowed to have a… erm, well, I'm not supposed to go on any dates until I'm thirty."

"Yeah, about that." Marcus said, "I think your dad already knows I like you, because he's been giving me hell for like, two weeks, ripping into me in class, and then taking points away every time he sees me in the corridors. I can… I can deal with it, if you can. Although we're definitely not going to win the House Cup, if this keeps up."

"I was wondering what happened to all our points," she said, and then, "My dad hasn't been cross with me in ages. I kind of miss it."

Marcus laughed. "So then," he said, "There's just one more thing…"

"What's that?"

Marcus crossed the few steps that separated them, and grinned at her; she felt her insides go all melty and fluttery and all kinds of other words she never thought she'd use to describe her insides. Her heart started racing; she couldn't help it, that  _grin_ , and he was so close to her … he smelled like the grass on the Quidditch pitch and that had never occurred to her to be a smell she liked before, but she found that suddenly, she did.

"Can I kiss you, now?" Marcus asked, and he sounded like he had been wanting to ask her this question for a very long time.

Calista couldn't make her voice work if she tried; she just swallowed the lump in her throat, and nodded.

It would have been too frightening, perhaps, if Marcus had seemed to know exactly what he was doing; she might have gotten scared and run away, if it seemed like this was the kind of thing he did all the time.

But it didn't seem that way at all; she noticed that his hand was trembling, just a bit, when he brought it up to the side of her neck, and laid it there gently. Calista was fiercely glad for the falling darkness in the owlery, because she knew her face would be red; she could feel heat in her cheeks and her neck; she wondered if her skin would burn his hand.

He leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers, very softly at first, and then with just a bit more pressure. It was awkward, and Calista felt like her nose got in the way, and even though she wasn't really doing much of anything, she was sure she was doing it wrong.

It only lasted a second or two, and then he pulled back, taking his hand off her neck. They looked at each other for a moment, and Calista wondered what she was supposed to do now. Were they going to kiss again? Even though it made her nervous, part of her hoped they were...

"So your dad is  _really_  going to hate you going to the Owlery now," Marcus said sheepishly.

Calista felt the tension and nerves drain out of her, and she laughed, a loud, awkward, enthusiastic laugh - the kind Marcus had always been able to get out of her before. She was glad for the reminder that, despite the fact that they were in uncharted territory now, he was still just Marcus. Calista reached for his hand in the darkness, something she'd been wanting to try doing for a long time.

"He really is going to hate it," she agreed. "I wonder if he'll make me copy lines again."

"What d'you think he'd make you write?" Marcus asked.

" _I will not kiss Quidditch players in the Owlery until I'm thirty_ ," she said.

"Yeah, see, that's no good," Marcus said, "You shouldn't tell lies."

He grinned, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, this time. "It's almost curfew," he said, "Ready to go back? Or did you really want to live here, now?"

"We better go back," Calista said, "We probably both have owl dung on us already."

"Perfect," Marcus said, "That's how I always pictured it would be the first time I kissed a girl."

"Well, it wasn't the  _first_  time," Calista said, and she wasn't even certain if she meant Olivia, or if she was trying to find out if he had kissed other girls before that day.

"I didn't kiss Olivia," he pointed out, " _She_ kissed  _me_. And for the record, I'll take the owl dung, any day."

Calista smiled, and they left the Owlery holding hands. It turned out to be every bit as nice as she'd always thought it might be.

"Oh," Calista said suddenly, "I just realised… That letter I sent… I told my aunt that Olivia ruined everything. I guess… I guess that's not really true anymore."

"Well, you can write her tomorrow, when your owl comes back," Marcus said, and then he grinned at her again. "I think I might have to go to the owlery tomorrow, too. Maybe… around seven o'clock?"

"I'm a little bit afraid this is going to turn out to be a dream," Calista confessed, "But if it's not… then I'll definitely be there."

"It better not be a dream," Marcus said, "It was hard, telling you all that stuff. If I have to do it all again, I think I'll just start with the kissing."

"That's… yeah, I'd be okay with that."

Their eyes met, and they both smiled. Calista didn't even care that she was blushing again. She didn't care about Olivia, or about Transfiguration, or exams. She could worry about all of that tomorrow… at least until seven o'clock.


	11. Chapter 11

At breakfast the next morning, Calista still sat with Sofia and Eva, and Marcus sat with the Quidditch team, both of them trying not to behave as if anything had changed. Of course, plenty of people had seen them return to the common room together, but no one knew what they had discussed, or the fact that they had kissed - at least, Calista hadn't told anyone, and she supposed that Marcus hadn't told the Quidditch team either. If he had, she was certain that Kim, at least, would be teasing her.

There was precisely one reason why they were trying to keep a low profile, and it was sitting at the high table, eating bacon and (Calista imagined) watching the Slytherin table with suspicion. Calista would deal with her father's ire when she had to; she just hoped to prolong the inevitable as long as possible, for her own sake as well as Marcus'.

In truth, she didn't know precisely how her father would react to her having kissed a boy - or been kissed by one, but the distinction didn't seem to matter, since she'd definitely been a willing party - or to the idea of Calista possibly being in a relationship with Marcus… but then, she didn't even know if she  _was_  in one, really, didn't know what being in one really entailed.

She was reasonably sure, however, that whatever his reaction was, it would not be favourable. Perhaps he would give both of them detention… or perhaps he would declare that they were not allowed to spend time near each other, but she didn't see how he could enforce that when they shared a common room. She was afraid that he would be unkind to Marcus, would even manage to scare him off, and she definitely didn't want  _that_  to happen.

Calista was pondering the logistics of keeping this secret from Severus when Severus' owl flew into the Great Hall, and dropped a letter next to Calista's plate. It was from Narcissa; as soon as she realised that, she grabbed the letter, and left the rest of her breakfast unfinished. She didn't want to risk opening it anywhere  _near_  Olivia, who was staring murderously at her eggs across the table and a few seats down, as if they were the reason that Marcus had rejected her advances the previous night.

Calista brought the letter back to her dormitory room, even though she had Potions class in fifteen minutes. At least her room wasn't very far from the classroom. She opened the letter, and read it quickly.

_Dear Calista,_

_I'm very sorry to hear that your classmate is causing you trouble. I know you are a clever girl, and you'll find a way to set her straight. Remember that it is quite likely she is jealous of you. Even if it does turn out that her mother is pure-blooded (which, frankly, I doubt, since I would know of her if she was), her father is not; naturally, she resents your rich heritage. I am telling you this not so you will pity her, but rather so you will feel righteous in addressing her mistreatment of you. You are undoubtedly part of a more privileged class than she, and perhaps she would be well-served to be reminded of that._

_I will look into the identity of her mother, if it will set your mind at ease, but I'm nearly certain she can't be anything like as important as your classmate would have you believe. If she were, she wouldn't need to resort to attempting to ingratiate her teenage daughter with your family._

_I'm very sorry as well that you've had your feelings hurt by the boy that you admire. I know it won't seem like much of a consolation now, but the truth of the matter is that if he would choose this Avril girl over you, then he is probably not worthy of your affection, anyway. No one ever wants to hear this, darling, but there will be more boys. If no one from an acceptable family at Hogwarts appeals to you, I would be happy to introduce you to some young men from suitable families who attend Durmstrang Academy, when you're a little older._

_You needn't worry about trusting me with your secrets, Calista. As long as they do not place you in danger, I will keep them. You can always come to me, with anything you wish to share, and I give you my word I will not betray your confidence, not even to your father._

_Your Loving Aunt,_

_Narcissa_

Calista glossed uneasily over the parts of the letter she didn't like; she was uncomfortable with Narcissa's insinuation that Calista was somehow special because of a heritage she didn't even  _want_. She ignored, too, Narcissa's comments about finding a boy from a 'suitable' family. She had no idea of her aunt would deem Marcus suitable or not, because she had never asked him about his blood status, because Calista didn't  _care_  about it.

There was a book that listed all of the pure-blood families in Wizarding Britain, she knew. She had seen it on the shelf in the Malfoy's library, and her mother used to have a copy of it, too, but Calista had never opened it. She felt that even doing so, even comparing which of her friends and classmates came from pure-blood families would be an indication that she was buying into her mother's ideology, and she refused.

The fact that her mother's ideology was also her Aunt Narcissa's ideology was a bit of a prickly point for Calista, who actually did like her aunt very much. She tended to simply ignore Narcissa's opinions on blood purity, because Narcissa was kind to her, and she seemed far too proper and delicate to ever do something as base as attacking anyone.

Of course,  _Lucius_  on the other hand… she was far more cautious of him, because she suspected that he would act on his derision for Muggles and Muggle-borns. In fact, she suspected that he already had… and besides, he was not nearly as pleasant as Narcissa, even though he did seem to have warmed up to Calista quite a bit since he had first met her.

Calista checked the time on the clock that hung between Olivia and Portia's beds; she had exactly two minutes to get to Potions. She folded Narcissa's letter and stuck it in her Potions book, because she didn't trust Olivia not to go snooping. When a small voice in her head observed how hypocritical this thought was, she suppressed it.

She slipped into the classroom precisely as the bell rang; it was the first time in her life that she had nearly been late to Potions class. She went quickly to her usual place, among the Gryffindors, next to Percy. They were brewing a Confusing Concoction, which was not particularly difficult, as long as the instructions were followed carefully.

Calista was grateful for the relatively easy assignment, because it meant she could focus on keeping any and all thoughts of Marcus from approaching the surface of her mind, where he might be able to pick up on them. Even so, Calista had the uncomfortable feeling that he somehow knew something, anyway, because he kept walking by her cauldron, and pausing there, as if she would burst out with whatever it was he wanted to know as long as he remained in her vicinity.

 _How's this for guarding my thoughts while occupied?_  she thought snappishly, while she blanched her scurvy grass in a bath of icy water. It was yet another instruction that was not in the book, but which her father had imparted to her; it increased the effectiveness, which allowed the brewer to either use less, or make a more potent concoction. Calista elected to use less, because it wouldn't need to simmer quite as long that way, and this was one day when she was loathe to remain after class.

"What's that you're doing with your scurvy grass?" Percy wondered, and Calista explained it to him. He asked her where she'd learned the trick from, and she said that her father had told her.

It occurred to her, in that moment, that really the only reason that she was an exceptional student in Potions was because of things her father had taught her, and he was always generous with his knowledge, with her. True, she could follow a recipe very well, but it wasn't a subject area that she explored on her own, particularly not since her father had stopped giving her private lessons.

She remembered taking an avid interest in Potions when she was younger, and she still liked it well enough now, because it wasn't difficult for her, but the truth was that she had ceased researching ingredients and reactions and such on her own as soon as she'd discovered she actually did have real magic.

She remembered telling Marcus that she wasn't certain if her favourite class was Potions or Charms, but she supposed that if she willingly spent upwards of three or four hours per week doing extra homework she didn't need to for Flitwick, and not for her father, then she had her answer. She wondered if her father was disappointed, or if he even noticed that she was never innovative in his class, only precise. Would she even do half as well in Potions if her father  _wasn't_  the professor?

Towards the end of class, when she went to the front of the room to turn her potion in, her father leaned over his desk to speak to her quietly.

"I want you to remain after class for a minute," he said.

"I have Ancient Runes right after lunch…"

"Ah, perfect. We'll eat lunch together, then. That will give us more than a minute."

Well, that had backfired. "Am I in trouble?" she whispered. It was better to be prepared, if she was.

"That remains to be seen," Severus said, ominously.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Lunch with her father hadn't actually gone disastrously. He was suspicious, that was for certain, but she wasn't positive if he was even suspicious of the proper thing. He didn't ask her anything about Marcus, or say anything about boys at all.

He wanted to know who she'd been using his owl to write to; Calista was pleased that she could truthfully give him an answer he wouldn't mind.

"I was writing to Aunt Narcissa," she said, "About that Olivia thing."

"Are you certain that's the only person you've been writing to?"

" _Yes_ ," she said, and she could afford to be indignant, because it was the truth. "Ask her if you want."

She hoped he wouldn't, though. Narcissa had  _said_  she'd keep her secret, but Calista didn't particularly want to put that promise to the test.

"Have you had any further dreams about Bellatrix?"

"No."

"How are your classes going?"

"Fine."

He frowned. It was clear to Calista that he felt something was afoot that he needed to get to the bottom of. She wasn't going to help him figure it out.

"And badgering? You've gotten that now?"

"I feel like I'm getting it right  _now_ ," she shot back. "I haven't done anything, so stop acting like I have, will you?"

"I never said you did. Guilty conscience, perhaps?"

"Hardly. And you don't have to say it, you're making it pretty clear that you think I've done something, with all your  _questions_."

After that, she'd successfully managed to transition him into talking about the Occlumency book he'd lent her, but he made one more attempt to uncover something as she was leaving his office to go to her next class.

"Calista, are you absolutely  _certain_  there's nothing you want to tell me?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not fair," she shot back.

"What are you talking about? What's not fair?"

"Nothing," she said, "I just thought we were saying useless things to each other, that's all. If I wanted to tell you something, I would. I have to go to class now - are you sure you don't want to follow me?"

Perhaps she had gone a little too far; he almost looked like he  _would_  follow her, but he waved her out of his quarters, a frown set in his face.

It occurred to her, too late, that it probably would have been wiser to be a bit friendlier to him. If he hadn't suspected she was hiding something before, she was nearly certain that he would suspect it now.

She was nearly late to Ancient Runes, too, although she decided to blame that on her father and all of his questions.

Guarding her thoughts about Marcus from her father during Potions class turned out to be a helpful thing for another reason, though; she found that she wasn't distracted by them like she otherwise might have been in class. She even managed to jot down a few ideas during the lecture of things she'd like to research further, later on, another crossover idea between Ancient Runes and Charms.

At dinner, Calista sat with Sofia and Eva again. They were asking her questions about the year-end exams, and what sorts of questions to expect in which classes, but Calista wasn't entirely focused on the conversation; she kept thinking about what would happen at seven o'clock. She wondered if Marcus still wanted to meet her in the owlery, hoped that he hadn't changed his mind about liking her… she wondered if he was going to kiss her again…

"Calista?" She blinked, and realised that Sofia was staring at her. "Is there something we should know about the Charms exam?" she wondered, "I asked you what was on it, and you started blushing."

"I… uhm, I'm not feeling very good. Too much studying, I guess. Sorry."

Eva smirked. "Studying what, I wonder? Or should I say,  _who_?" She raised her eyebrows knowingly, and then she and Sofia both giggled.

Calista scowled. "Shut up."

"Everyone's saying he fancies you, you know," Sofia said, "I mean, he told that prissy blonde girl Olivia that he liked someone else, and…"

"Everyone reckons it's you," Eva finished, "Because of that Quidditch thing, with the Gryffindors, a while back."

"What? What Quidditch thing are you talking about?" Calista had been about to tell Eva to shut up again, until she'd said that, and Sofia had started nodding, like she knew exactly what Eva was talking about.

"Oh… no one told you?" Eva seemed surprised.

"Told me  _what?_ "

"A few months ago, that other girl, the blonde's friend, Portia, was trying to make trouble for you. She was in the common room, and she started telling everyone that you were at the Quidditch pitch, for the Gryffindor practise. She said you went there all the time, that you were probably spying for their Quidditch team, telling them all our plays, a whole bunch of stuff like that -"

"I was not  _spying,_ " Calista said.

"Well, listen, will you?" Sofia said, good-naturedly, "Marcus was there, and he told Portia she didn't know what she was talking about. He said he  _asked_  you to go there, that you were actually spying  _for_  Slytherin."

"He… he did?"

"Yeah," Eva chimed in, "And people seemed to buy it, although  _we_  know you don't understand enough of the rules of Quidditch to be particularly good at spying."

"And you have friends in Gryffindor," Sofia added, "So we knew it wasn't true, but we didn't say anything, obviously. Anyway, he came to your defence very quickly, so now everyone's saying that you must be the one he fancies."

"I wish everyone would mind their own business and shut up," Calista muttered.

"Well, Eva prodded, leaning across the table, and smiling slyly at Calista, "You fancy him too, don't you?"

"Will you two  _drop_  it?"

"Not a chance," Sofia grinned, "Not until you tell him you like him. You'd be so  _cute_  together!"

" _Shut up_ ," Calista hissed, "He knows, okay? We… we already talked about it."

Sofia and Eva both lit up.

"But you can't say anything else about it!" Calista said quickly, before they could bombard her with more questions. "I don't… I don't want anyone  _else_ to know. My dad… I don't think he'd be happy…"

"Oooh," Eva said, raising her eyebrows again. "You're right. That's going to be a problem, isn't it?"

The two of them exchanged a look, and then Sofia smiled reassuringly at Calista. "Well, he won't find out from  _us_ ," she said, "We can keep a secret for you. We didn't tell anyone about the Quidditch thing."

Calista really hoped they were telling the truth. "Please," she said, " _Don't_  say anything. I… I'll bring you back whatever you want from Hogsmeade, next time I go."

"Calista," Eva said, rolling her eyes. "We won't say anything. You don't have to bribe us, we're your friends." She considered a moment, and then added, "But I'll take some dungbombs, as long as you don't ask me what they're for."

"Eva!" Sofia admonished, but Calista nodded. "Deal," she said, quickly.

After dinner, Calista went back to the common room, and wrote another letter to her aunt.

_Dear Aunt Narcissa,_

_Olivia might not have ruined everything after all, even though she tried. I talked to him last night, and he told me he likes me, too._

_I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now, though. I really like him a lot, and I'm afraid I'm going to mess this all up by saying or doing the wrong thing - what did you do, when you realised that Uncle Lucius liked you, too?_

_I'm worried that my dad will be angry… he doesn't want me going out with anyone until I'm thirty, but I can't wait that long, not when there's a boy I like that actually likes me, too._

_Please, give me any advice you can, before I manage to ruin this._

_Sincerely,_

_Calista_

She sealed it up, and checked the time. Six-thirty. She took out her Ancient Runes book, and flipped through it, meaning to look into the idea she'd had in class a bit more, but she was too distracted, knowing it was almost time to go meet Marcus. She waited until she judged it was time, and looked at the clock again. Six forty-one. How had only six minutes gone by?

She closed her book, and put it on her nightstand. It was no use, she was only getting more and more nervous while she sat in her room, waiting. She decided to go to the owlery early, and just wait.

On the way out of her room, she realised that she hadn't looked in a mirror in days, had no idea what her hair was like, or if her robes were on crooked. She had ripped the mirror off the inside of her wardrobe door in her first year, when she got tired of looking at her big nose whenever she opened it, so she had to go to the washroom off the common room whenever she wanted to check her reflection, which admittedly wasn't often.

She grabbed her hairbrush, a green hairband, and her snake earrings, and went quickly to the girls' washroom. She brushed her hair for the second time that day, put her hairband in, and then put the earrings on. She looked at her reflection, hoping she looked okay.

 _You're still not pretty_ , Olivia had said, and Calista frowned, because she knew it was true, when she looked at herself. She didn't have wide blue eyes, a delicate nose, thick blond hair, or the suggestion of curves that Olivia did.

She was too skinny, too pale, her nose was too long, her hair was nothing special, and her eyes were so dark they barely  _had_  a colour. With the haircut, and the robes, and the hairband, and the earrings, she supposed that she might possibly be described as "average-looking", but certainly no better than that. She should just forget this whole plan, go back to her room, maybe start researching that essay she wanted to write…

"No," she told her reflection, quietly. She wanted her Aunt Narcissa to tell her how not to ruin this? Well, one way she  _could_  ruin it would be to throw it away before it even began. Marcus had already said that he liked her, even though he could have had Olivia. He'd pushed Olivia  _away_  to pursue Calista, instead. She wasn't quite certain  _why_  he liked her, but he did.

She gathered her things, put them back in her room, and checked the clock again. Ten of seven. She made herself pick up the sealed letter, and leave her dormitory room.

The entire way to the owlery, she seemed determined to talk herself out of going, again. What if he wasn't there? What if it  _had_ somehow been a dream, or a joke, or what if he had changed his mind? By the time she got there, she had already nearly convinced herself that he  _wouldn't_ be there. If he wasn't, she would… she didn't know.

She stepped into the owlery, and looked around; there was someone else there… it wasn't Marcus though, it was a seventh-year Hufflepuff girl. She would have just left again, but the girl looked up with a friendly smile when she entered, so she decided to just send her letter, rather than look foolish by entering and then going right back out. While she was tying her letter to Nox's leg, the Hufflepuff waved good-bye and left.

She released the owl out the window, and then she paced near it for a couple of minutes. It had to be seven by now, but there was no sign of him. She decided to wait until the count of one hundred, and then just leave.

No sooner had she decided that, he came running in, wearing his Quidditch robes, and carrying his broomstick.

"Hey," he said, breathlessly, "Sorry, I had practise… I thought I'd be done sooner, I ran all the way here."

"That's okay," Calista said, relieved. "I… I thought you might have changed your mind."

Marcus laughed, and came over to the window where she was standing. "Nah, that wouldn't happen."

She felt her cheeks getting warm  _again_  - would that ever stop? She wished it was dark already, but the days were getting longer, and there was still a dim, rosy glow in the owlery.

He leaned his broom against the wall, and stepped closer to her. She felt her heart speed up again, felt the anticipatory tingle spread from her stomach outwards.

"Are we… are we going to kiss again?" she asked. Oh no, had she actually asked that? What was  _wrong_  with her?

"I hope so," Marcus said, "I mean, if you want to."

She nodded, and then she stepped closer to him, too, so they were only inches apart. She felt like she should do something… but she didn't know what, and she was afraid he would laugh at her, if she did the  _wrong_ thing.

"Sorry about the Quidditch robes," Marcus said, "I thought I'd have time to change."

"I don't care," Calista said.  _Sorry about my nose_ , she almost said back.

"So…" Marcus said, just as Calista said, "Yeah…"

They both laughed, and then both of them leaned towards each other, awkwardly. Their lips came together, tentatively, for a few seconds; they separated briefly, and Calista exhaled nervously, and then both of them tried again, still cautious.

Marcus put his hand on the side of her neck, and she could feel that he was trembling a little, again. For some reason, his being nervous too made her feel just a tiny bit less self-conscious; she put her hands on his shoulders, and allowed herself to lean into him a little.

When they pulled apart again a minute later, Marcus' cheeks were as red as hers felt. Their eyes met again, and without meaning to, she picked up on his stream of thoughts, a tangled, confusing thread -

_\- flying, want to fly with her again, big dark eyes, kissing her -_

She saw a quick succession of flashing images; and they were of  _her_ , her face, close-up in the owlery, her hair flying back with the Quidditch pitch far below, her hunched over a book in the common room.

She lowered her eyes quickly, and stepped back, dropping her hands from his shoulders. His hand came off her neck, too.

"Calista?" he wondered, "Did I… did I do something wrong?"

"N-no," she said, trying to shake away what she had seen, not because it was bad, but because she knew it wasn't really meant for her to see.

Had she practised legilimency on him? She hadn't  _meant_  to… but then she remembered that her father had told her a long time ago that heightened emotional states make a person easier to read, and that it was particularly easy for a legilimens to read thoughts that were about themselves. But she didn't really  _want_  to see what his thoughts about her were, because what if they weren't all kind? What if he agreed with Olivia that she wasn't pretty? Suspecting it was one thing, but she didn't want to  _know_. Could she shut this legilimency thing  _off_ , then?

"I'm sorry," Marcus said, "I shouldn't've kept kissing you like that… I guess I… got carried away."

"No, it's not…" she chanced another glance up at him, and was relieved that it didn't happen again. His face looked calmer now, and his grey eyes were fixed on her with a mildly concerned expression. "It's not that."

He furrowed his brow. "Well, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I mean…" she couldn't tell him she had accidentally read his mind, for Merlin's sake… it would probably freak him out, and besides, she didn't think she was really supposed to be telling people she was learning occlumency and legilimency, anyway. "It's just… I was thinking about something… for a class."

His expression cleared, and he chuckled. "Of course you were," he said. "You know, you think about school a  _lot_."

"Not really," she protested. "A normal amount."

"No way," he said, shaking his head. "You definitely think about school more than a normal amount. You missed the first time I tried to ask you out because you were thinking about school, and now you're thinking about it again - I must be  _really_  boring."

He said it good-naturedly, but Calista could tell his feelings were a little hurt, by the expression on his face; oh no, was she actually seeing that on his face, or was she reading his mind again? It was on his face, right? Of course it was, she was being paranoid now…

"Oh, well, that." Calista said sheepishly. "I kind of lied, that time when I said I was thinking about Transfiguration. I was thinking about… well, I was thinking about how I like you, and I was afraid you were going to figure it out."

"Well, I kept thinking I had it figured out," Marcus said, "But then the next minute, I was sure I was wrong. You're… you're really hard to read, you know that?"

"No, I'm not," Calista said, "Half of my friends figured out that I like you."

"Well," Marcus said, matter-of-factly, "They're all cleverer than I am, then. Why didn't you want me to figure it out, anyway?"

"Well, because it's  _embarrassing_ ," Calista said, and then she noticed the way his face fell, and she continued in a rush. "Not - not because of you, or anything, but… well, I never… well, I never really… you know,  _liked_  anyone, and then I was sure that you didn't like me that way…"

"Really?" Marcus asked, "I thought I was being pretty obvious. Maybe I  _should_  have just done the flowers thing…"

Calista looked at him blankly. "What would I have done with them? Unless it was asphodel or something, maybe I could make a potion."

Marcus grinned, and Calista felt her stomach flip-flop again. "Yeah," Marcus said, and for some reason he sounded pleased. "I  _knew_ you'd say something like that."

"Seriously," she wondered, "What do people do with flowers?"

"Erm," Marcus said, "I think they just look at them… I dunno, I'm not a girl."

Calista half-smiled. "Well, I guess I'm not a girl, either, then, because I don't know either."

Marcus' grin widened, and his eyes swept over her, from her feet up to her face. "Oh, yeah, you're a girl," he said, "You're just a different kind of girl, that's all."

She felt self-conscious. What had that look meant? And what did he mean, a different kind of girl? Did he mean that she wasn't pretty? Well, she knew that, already, she didn't need him telling her… Her smile faltered, and she unconsciously took a half-step back.

"Hey," he said, cocking his head, "Did I say something wrong again?"

"No…"

He seemed to think he had, though. He frowned, and glanced around the owlery. This wasn't going the way Calista had thought it would… maybe  _she_  was the one who had said something wrong.

"So," Marcus said, quickly. "What about today? Were you really thinking about school?"

"Yeah," she said, because she still couldn't tell him about legilimency.

"Well," he asked, "which class?"

"Uhm…" and then she remembered that she actually  _had_  spent a good part of today thinking about something for school, so she decided to tell him about that.

"Well, in Ancient Runes today, I noticed something... There's an old Gaelic rune for 'secret' that looks very similar to the wand movements for  _Colloportus_ , and I remembered from an essay I did a couple of years ago that ancient rituals, you know, from before wands were invented… they used to involve these complicated dances that were based loosely on rune shapes… so I thought, maybe you can still get certain spells like that to work by trying to recreate some kind of ritual… I mean, it wouldn't be very practical now, but maybe if you were disarmed it could help… I mean, I don't even know if it's possible, but that's what I want to try and find out."

Marcus looked bewildered. "Er… you thought of all that  _today_?"

"Well, mostly," she said, "Some of it's from an essay I did before."

"Wow," he said, admiringly, "You really are brilliant, aren't you? I'd never think of any of that."

She blushed, which was just starting to seem inevitable around him. "It's not… It's not really… I mean, I don't even know if it will work, yet."

"Is there more?"

"Huh? More about… about that? Not yet. I mean, I've written loads of essays about stuff kind of like that, but not that  _exactly_. Why? Do you… are you interested in wandless magic?"

"I dunno," he said, "I might be now."

But now she rather thought he might be making fun of her, so she shrugged. "It's stupid. Never mind."

"Huh?" Marcus stepped closer to her again, and reached for her hand. "I've known you for almost three years, and I've never heard you say  _anything_  stupid. It's… I dunno if you could, I mean, you're… you know."

"I'm what?" She asked, knowing her voice was bordering on defensive.

"You're… well, you're brilliant, like I said. I don't even understand half the stuff you say sometimes, but I pretend I do just so you'll keep talking to me about it. You get this look… I dunno… it's like whatever you're talking about is really important, and it makes me want to care about whatever it is, too."

Calista reacted internally to this in much the same way that she supposed a girl would normally react to being told she was beautiful; she felt a warm glow inside, a burst of confidence that made her feel special, and she forgot to care that she wasn't beautiful at all, because Marcus hadn't just called her clever, or a good student, he had called her  _brilliant_ , and he'd said it twice.

"I don't think this is how flirting is supposed to work," she said, "But I like it, anyway."

"I dunno about that," Marcus teased, "You're blushing again. I'm pretty sure this  _is_ how flirting is supposed to work."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

_Dear Calista,_

_I'm so pleased that things are looking better for you. My heart was aching for you when I got your previous letter. I'm very pleased as well that you feel comfortable confiding in me._

_Don't fret too much about ruining things with this boy - you're a lovely, clever young lady from a good family, and he obviously already realises this. Besides, darling, I can nearly guarantee you that he shares the same fear as you do. Perhaps even now he is asking his friends or family for advice on how not to "ruin this"._

_I know that your first relationship can seem very intense and important, Calista, and if it feels this way to you already, remember that it is perfectly appropriate for you to take things more slowly than may feel natural. You are still quite young, although I'm sure you don't feel as if you are, and I promise you things will work out better in the long run if you and this boy take the time to get to know each other, to talk and to be friends._

_I think you will find it easier, as well, to sway your father into approving of your relationship with this boy, if you let things blossom slowly between you. He is very protective of you, darling, and I know you will find it frustrating, but try to remember that he loves you, as we all do, and will only try to do what he believes is best for you. I gave you my word, and I will not tell your father about your new relationship, unless I have reason to believe it may become harmful to you, but consider telling him yourself, sooner rather than later. I'm certain you know as well as I do that he doesn't particularly care for surprises._

_Your exams must be quite soon; I hope you are still studying diligently, and wish you the best of luck on them. I'm looking forward to having you and your father come for another visit this summer, and I expect you'll tell me all about this boy then._

_Your Loving Aunt,_

_Narcissa_

Calista read her aunt's letter, and though she appreciated Narcissa's advice and kind words, she thought her aunt was mistaken as far as informing her father of her new relationship - if that was even what it was - with Marcus.

He would not be pleased, whether she told him or whether he found out some other way, and she was of the opinion that the wisest plan was to delay the inevitable as long as possible, and hope that by the time he realised she had been kissing Marcus, with any luck, she would have either found a way to explain it that wouldn't make him cross, or she would turn thirty. She suspected the latter was more likely.

She was slightly offended, as well, that her aunt had thought to remind her to study for her exams; of  _course_  she was going to study for her exams, she had spent the entire school year working hard, and she wouldn't throw it away for anything.

Besides, one of the upshots of studying Occlumency for three hours a week was that Calista was quite good at compartmentalising her mind when she needed to. When she was with Marcus, she could think of him, and let that blushing, hair-fiddling girl that had moved into her head out to breathe; but the  _rest_  of the time, she was still the Calista Snape that wrote extra essays for her own enjoyment, and had read all of her textbooks cover-to-cover before Christmas break.

She supposed she was still that girl with Marcus, too, most of the time. She occasionally had to share the spotlight with hair-fiddling-girl, but he didn't seem to mind, so perhaps it wasn't so awful after all.

A week before exams started, Olivia snuck up behind her while she was studying in the common room. She didn't even realise the other girl was in the common room at all, until she heard a derisive hiss behind her ear, felt a warm breath on her neck that made the little hairs on it stand up.

"Enjoy your time with Marcus while you can," Olivia hissed behind her, and Calista only managed not to visibly start with a fair measure of deliberate self-control. "Because as soon as he passes Potions, he won't need to bother with you anymore."

"You're ridiculous," Calista said, evenly, though the rage that Olivia always seemed to be able to induce was lurking threateningly somewhere inside her, "Go away, will you?"

"Reckon that's what he'll say, as soon as exams are over?" Olivia whispered gleefully. "You can't seriously think there's any  _other_  reason he'd want to spend any time with  _you_."

Calista opened her mouth, to retort that there obviously  _were_  other reasons, since he'd spent plenty of time with her before, when they were just friends… except, when she thought about it, they actually  _had_ spent most of their time together studying.

But Marcus really liked her, didn't he? It certainly  _seemed_ like he did. Besides, Emily was a very good student across many subject areas, too, was in fact much better at Transfiguration in particular than Calista was, and Emily, with her waist-length brown hair and long-lashed, light-brown eyes, was quite pretty in her own right, so if Marcus were going to choose a Slytherin girl to use to improve his academic standing, he could have easily chosen Emily, instead.

"How convenient that you're so easy to fool  _and_  you happen to be a professor's brat," Olivia said, as if she had read Calista's mind.

" _Sod off_!" Calista growled, and Olivia obliged, but not without a smirk that said she knew full well she'd accomplished what she'd set out to.

 _It can't be true_ , Calista thought, when Olivia had gone,  _Can it?_

But the logical part of her brain kicked in, then.  _Of course it isn't true_ , that part of her said,  _Marcus knows I'd help him study, anyway. We're friends, we've been friends for ages._

Besides, there was that confusing tangle of thoughts and images she'd inadvertently picked up from him, the last time they were in the owlery together. She wasn't quite certain how to interpret all of that, but it definitely had felt like he enjoyed kissing her.

And that last thought alone was enough for her to feel her face heat up, and for her fingers to go to her hair, and start fiddling.  _No_ , logical-Calista told hair-twirling Calista firmly,  _We are so_ not _doing this right now._

She wrote another letter to Narcissa that night, a short one that she scrawled quickly, because she was half-touched by Narcissa's well-meaning advice, and half-annoyed that her aunt seemed to think she wasn't already following some of it.

_Dear Aunt Narcissa,_

_I've been friends with him practically since I started at Hogwarts. I know him better than I know almost anyone else here._

_Of course I'm still studying for exams, I know how important they are._

_I'll try to follow what you said about taking things slowly, but I would rather fight a dragon with nothing but a sugar quill at my disposal than tell my father that I'm involved with a boy._

_Love,_

_Calista_

_PS: Tell Draco hello from me. Don't tell him about the boy though, or it will probably come out at the dinner table._

She was very aware of the fact that it was the first time she had ever signed a letter to her aunt with 'love'; was the first time, in fact, that she had ever used the word for anyone besides her father.

She had written it reflexively, and then as soon as she'd seen the letters on the page, she'd wanted to cross them out. She'd stared at the closing of her letter no less than five minutes, debating whether she should cross it out; but no, that would be even worse, wouldn't it? Should she start over on a fresh sheet of parchment, then?

She knew she had also inserted more of her personality into this letter to Narcissa than she ever had before, but she was beginning to feel comfortable enough to be herself; writing back and forth to Narcissa all year, but especially lately, had had that effect.

Besides, she told herself reasonably, family members always signed their letters with 'love'; Olivia's mother had, and she knew Emily signed letters to her mother that way, and anyway, Narcissa always signed her letters that way.

Before she could think about it anymore, she sealed the letter, and brought it up to the owlery. She was half-hoping Marcus would happen to be there, but of course he wasn't, since they hadn't made any plans to meet there. She really did have a lot of studying to do, though, so perhaps it was just as well.

She watched Nox fly off towards the horizon, carrying what felt like a whole lot more than just a snarky letter to her aunt.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

_She stands in the middle of a round room, with frosted glass windows set all around. The floor is unfinished, bland-coloured planks of wood, the sort that would leave slivers of wood in her skin for certain if she walked across them with bare feet._

_There's nothing and no one inside the room, except for herself. To be certain of this, she turns a slow circle, watching sharply for any sign that she is not alone. Her ears are perked, too, and she hears nothing except the rhythm of her own breathing._

_Something is wrong, though, and it's a few moments before she can place precisely what it is is._

_She knows this room; she has been in it before, on several occasions. But this time, it is different. This time, there is no door. She turns around in a circle again, to make sure she hasn't simply missed it, but it isn't there, there are only windows, and a plant stand, with a small potted plant on it..._

_But she knows the plant stand wasn't here a moment ago, even though she does recognise it as something she has seen before. It gives her a feeling of foreboding for some reason, if only she could recall precisely why._

_She steps closer to the plant, and inspects it. Something tells her not to touch the leaves, so she doesn't, she just leans close and studies it._

_It's aconite, and this sends a nervous tension running through her veins, along her skin. She knows there's more to it than the mere fact that this plant is highly venomous, there's something else too, some other danger it poses._

_When she remembers the glint of cold grey eyes, the patrician features curled into a maniacal expression, the precise shape of long, fine fingers curled around a wand, she does the first thing that occurs to her to do._

_She picks up the plant by its pot, careful to avoid any of the leaves, and hurls it across the room as hard as she can. It crashes through one of the windows, shattering the frosted glass on impact._

_The plant is gone, now, at least. She notices that the plant stand has disappeared, too, but in this house things seem to appear and reappear inexplicably, so she isn't too concerned by it. She crosses the room to the window, and looks out -_

_\- but she can't see anything, not even enough to judge how high up she is. It's not even the black of night outside, but… nothing. It's the strangest thing she can remember ever seeing, as if the world simply ends beyond the walls of this house._

_A bitter wind whips through the empty window suddenly, and causes her to shiver. Whatever is or isn't outside, it's freezing out there. Now she regrets breaking the window, because the room is quickly becoming unbearably cold. The wind seems to howl and shriek, suddenly, outside. It's almost as if it's calling her name, somehow, but that can't be; she's just so cold that she can't think straight. She clutches her cloak around herself, and then she remembers something very important._

_She remembers that this is a dream, and that she can wake up, if she concentrates very hard on it; so she does, she concentrates on opening her eyes, on wrenching her mind out of the chill room in the deserted house, the room with no door and a missing window. She pulls herself out of the dream._

Calista woke with a start, sitting upright in bed. She was quite cold, and for a panicked instant, she thought that she had not really managed to wake up. But then, slowly, more information filtered into her brain.

She registered the soft snores of Portia across the room, the murky green light filtering through their bedroom window, and the fact that she had managed to throw her covers off onto the floor; no wonder she was cold.

She slipped out of bed, and gathered her covers, piling them back on top of her bed. Now that she knew she was safe, she wanted to climb right back under them, and try to find a dreamless sleep…

But Bellatrix had been in her dream, hadn't she? She hadn't manifested, like that last terrifying time, but there had been the image of her, and that plant… that plant had been the precursor to Bellatrix's invasion, last time.

She cast a wistful look at her bed, and went to her wardrobe instead, reaching for her cloak and putting it on over her nightdress. She slipped into her trainers, too, even though they were much too tight these days, because they disguised her footfalls a lot easier than the flats Narcissa bought her did.

She snuck out of her room, easing the door shut behind her; as soon as she entered the common room, she was possessed by a sudden and irrational fear that Marcus would be in there, would see her in her pyjamas and her ugly old trainers, and would decide instantly that he didn't like her anymore… but of course, it was sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and no one was there.

She started and gasped when she stepped out into the hallway; the Bloody Baron was gliding by, and he paused to eye her as suspiciously as a ghost can, when he saw her. He moaned, and rattled his chains at her threateningly, and motioned towards the hidden door she had just come through.

"I'm just going to see my - I'm going to the Head of House's office," she said, because she wasn't certain if the Baron had recognised who she was or not.

"Young lady, I hardly think this is the appropriate time to disturb a professor," he said; Calista winced, just because she hated his voice. It was grating and mournful at the same time, and it also managed to convey a vague distaste for everything and everyone.

"Trust me, he won't mind," Calista said, and the Baron hovered closer, and peered at her; he was carrying a lantern, and when he lifted it, ghostly silver light bathed her face.

"Ah, the Snape girl," he observed, without much enthusiasm. "I suppose you think you're entitled to special privileges; let me make this simple for you, then. You're not."

He waved his arms in the direction of the common room entrance rattling his chains again.

"I'm going to go see my dad," Calista told him again, trying not to sound as unnerved as she felt. "It's important."

"I highly doubt anything a girl of your age has to say is truly important," the Baron said, and Calista had to remind herself that she couldn't actually hex a ghost, "But I suppose if you insist, I can accompany you to the office of your Head of House."

"Uh, no, that's okay," Calista said quickly, "I can go there myself."

"Noooooo," he moaned, and clanked his chains around again. "Now that I've seen you, I must finish this."

"What?!  _Finish_  - what's that supposed to mean?"

"I've seen a student out of bed," the Baron said, in a voice that managed to sound threatening and melancholy at the same time, "Now, you must return to bed, or I must see you safely to your Head of House. Some of us actually  _do_  take our charges seriously, you know."

"Er," Calista said, trying to suppress a shiver. "Fine, I guess. You can… you can see me there."

It was possibly the oddest experience she'd had at Hogwarts to date, being escorted to her father's office by a ghost. He followed a few paces behind her, moaning and shaking his chains every now and then, like punctuation. When they reached the entrance to her father's office, the Baron hovered in the corridor, watching her expectantly until she opened the door and slipped inside.

"What a bloody creep," she muttered to herself.

A great clanking sounded right by her ears, and she started, scrambling back from the sound; the Baron's head and arms had followed her, and were sticking through the heavy wooden door. He wore a sinister snarl on his ghostly features.

"I'm dead, young lady, not deaf," he admonished.

This time, she waited until she was sure he had really gone, and then she exhaled, and went through her father's office to his quarters, magically unlocking the door, and then letting it close behind her. She already knew that the particular spells he had in place on the door would cause it to lock again behind her.

She stood, uncertainly, in the dark main corridor of his quarters. It was black and silent within; he was evidently still sleeping. That meant that she had not managed to wake him, with her nightmare; but then, it hadn't been nearly as bad as some of her others, so perhaps that was why it hadn't triggered an alarm in his mind the way her nightmares always used to.

She wondered if she should wake him, or just wait until morning to tell him about her dream; she'd never had to face this dilemma before, never had a nightmare that she wanted to talk to him about that  _hadn't_  woken him up.

But then, now that she thought about it, he hadn't known about the other dreams she'd had this year, preceding the one that had allowed Bellatrix to manifest inside of it. She wondered if he was alerted only to dreams in which she actually saw Bellatrix materialise, spoke with her.

In the end, what decided her was the welcoming darkness beyond the door of her old bedroom. She was still tired, and there was something about that room, still, that made her feel safe. She slipped inside, kicked off her trainers, removed her cloak, and curled up under the covers. She remembered that this room used to fill with a cool, silvery light, from the witchfire night light her father had given her for their first Christmas together. She'd never tell anyone, but she'd have been happy to have it, still. It wasn't only the dark that it chased away, the imaginary horrors it dispelled; to Calista, it was also a symbolic reminder of rescue.

But she was fourteen years old, and she was stronger and wiser now than she had been then; it was silly to wish for something so childish, when she knew better by now than to fear the dark. She knew enough now to know that the light  _was_ only a symbol. If darkness came for her again, it would come from inside, from the pain of her own memories, from the blood she shared with Bellatrix, and the brightest night light in the world wouldn't help her, then.

She rolled over to face the wall, and reminded herself that her father slept in the next room, that she would talk to him in the morning, and that she had her History of Magic exam in the morning, so she'd better get some sleep.

In the morning, the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed coffee woke Calista. She scrambled out of bed, thinking to tell her father she was here, and ask him to make some extra for her. She needn't have bothered, though; when she went into the kitchen, she saw that he had already set two steaming mugs on the table. She should have realised, of course he would know she was here, he knew  _everything_.

"Morning," she said cautiously, watching him take his customary seat. The last time she'd spoken to him, they'd been sort-of arguing.

He gestured to the empty chair at the table. "Sit. I can have breakfast sent up in a little while, if you wish, but I had a feeling coffee would take priority."

She took the same chair she'd taken every time they'd ever sat at this table together; reflexively, she tried to curl her legs up underneath her, but now it was awkward and uncomfortable, because her legs were suddenly too long to fit. She frowned, and sat normally instead. reaching for the hot mug of coffee to console her.

"Are you here because you missed me, or because you want something?" he asked, in a tone that indicated he suspected the latter.

"Neither," she said, surprised. "I thought you'd know… I had another dream, last night."

He leaned forward slightly. "You did? You should have woken me."

"It wasn't really that bad," she said, blowing across the top if her mug to cool it down somewhat. "I didn't even see her, really. I meant… I mean, I would have told you, but you were asleep, and I thought it could wait until the morning. I thought… I thought you'd be awake when I got here, actually. You used to always wake up, when I had a nightmare."

Severus reached for his coffee, and took a long sip, even though it must have been quite hot still. "It appears that you no longer broadcast your alarm to me," he said, "I have not been alerted to the last several of your nightmares. I actually assumed you were blocking me intentionally."

"What?" Calista said, "I don't even know  _how_  to block you from knowing about it, since I don't know how I alerted you to it in the first place. Besides, you knew about the one I had at the Malfoys'…"

"You were screaming, that time," he reminded her, and frowned when she looked embarrassed, adding, "A fact which I am grateful for, considering the circumstances of that particular dream. Perhaps you never would have told me, otherwise."

"So… so you didn't feel that I was afraid, that time?"

"Not until I was nearly to your room," he said, "And I had no indication of the preceding dreams, nor of the one you had last night."

"But… why would it change? Could it be… just because I didn't actually  _see_  her in any of the other dreams? But no, because I  _did_  see her in the one I had at the Malfoys', and you didn't feel that one, either…"

"Let me ask you something," he said, "In any of your dreams, beginning with the ones where Bellatrix was trying to break through the door, and ending with the one you had last night, did you attempt to call out for help at all?"

"No," she said, "I didn't think I needed to, I thought I had everything under control… except, the really bad one. At the end, I did try to call out to you."

"Which I suspect is when I was already on my way to you, and felt your alarm as I approached your room," he said. "The conclusion I'm inclined to draw is that your barriers have become strong enough to prevent your fear from seeping through them unconsciously, which is frankly something I hoped would happen, eventually."

"Why?" she asked, puzzled, "Don't you want to know if I'm having another dream about  _her_?"

"Of course I want to know," Severus said, "But the indiscriminate broadcasting of your alarm has always been a double-edged sword, Calista. I'm nearly certain that you were alerting Bellatrix to your vulnerable state as well; this way, if it only happens when you purposefully direct your anguish towards me, then it stands to reason that she won't receive the same information."

"I wonder if that's why…" she wound her fingers through the handle of her coffee mug as she mulled something over. After a moment of thought, she related the entire dream to him, finishing with, "I wonder if that's why there was no door in the room, this time."

"It seems quite likely," Severus said, "But I'm more concerned with that window, the one that you said was shattered when you threw the plant through it. Did it repair itself?"

"No," she said, "There was this cold wind coming through it, and then I woke up, and I had thrown the covers on the floor."

"Did you try to fix it, in your dream?"

"No," she said again, "I guess it never occurred to me to try it."

"I have a hunch," he said, "One I don't particularly like. Check the structure of your barriers, see if there's a gap in them that wasn't there before."

"I don't think there will be one," she said, "I didn't feel her breaking through…" she frowned, because when she focused on her first barrier, she  _did_  find a spot that was unguarded. "Wait, there  _is_ …"

She concentrated on the spot, mentally pulled on the threads around the gap, and wove them back into place to seal it off; she closed her eyes, concentrating on repairing it, making the barrier solid once more.

"There was a gap," she said, opening her eyes. "I fixed it, I think."

In answer, she felt him brush against her outer barrier, checking along it. He did not attempt to push through, and after a minute, he withdrew.

"How did she… how did she break through, without my realising it?" Calista asked, apprehensively.

"She didn't," Severus answered, "I believe  _you_  did that, without meaning to. The logical interpretation of your dream, as I see it, is that you sensed Bellatrix's attempted infiltration, with the plant, and you used legilimency to force her out of your mind, through the window. In itself, that's excellent news, but you left yourself vulnerable to future attacks by not repairing the window."

"But I had no idea that's what I was doing," she said, "How was I supposed to know I even  _could_ fix the window, let alone that I should have?"

"Calista," he said, slightly exasperated, "You  _wouldn't_  know, that's the point. That's the entire reason you're supposed to come to me."

"I did," she said defensively, "And by the way, I'm pretty sure the Bloody Baron hates me now. He insisted on following me here, and he heard me call him a creep."

"Well," Severus said wryly, "That's true in the most literal sense, isn't it? Don't concern yourself with it, though, he tends to dislike most of the female students particularly; I've never known why."

"So… what about the plant?" Calista wondered, "Why did she choose to try and reach me with a  _plant_?"

"I don't believe she did, actually. It seems far more likely that the plant - the one in this dream and those in the prior one - were supplied by your own mind, to symbolise the attack Bellatrix was attempting to execute."

"What? But why plants?"

"Well," he said, "What was your reaction, when you realised you were looking at aconite?"

"That it was venomous," she said, instantly, "That I should get rid of it."

"And the other one, forget-me-nots?" he pressed, "What do they mean, to you?"

"Well, remembering something, of course," she said.

"The mind is quite clever," Severus said, "It knows which things you will interpret correctly in a dream. I believe that some part of your mind sensed that Bellatrix was trying to infiltrate it, like a poison, and that she wanted to force her way in through shared memories. Your mind manifested those plants as symbols, to warn you. And it does appear that it worked; you eliminated the threat, you only failed to ensure it wouldn't return easily."

"Something tells me I know exactly what my next Occlumency lesson will be about," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Have you figured it out?" Severus asked, with feigned admiration. "You see? The mind is quite clever."

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

Thankfully, Calista was not plagued by any more dreams during her exams, though the exams themselves were a lot more demanding this year than they had been in her first two years, largely because she had more classes this year.

Her father had given her an Occlumency exam of sorts, too, by putting her through a particularly grueling set of intrusions to fight against; she wasn't certain quite how well she did, but he wasn't in a foul temper at the end of the lesson, which meant that she had at least done well enough to keep him from seeing any of her thoughts regarding Marcus.

Overall, Calista was pleased with the results of her exams. She had done exceptionally well in Potions and Charms, again, and in Ancient Runes this year, as well.

She had done quite well in Arithmancy and Defence Against the Dark Arts, although perhaps not quite as well as she'd hoped; but then, she had hoped to earn a perfect score, so perhaps this was not surprising.

She had done only slightly above average in History of Magic and Herbology, but she had more or less expected this, because her mind had been full of other things the day she took the History of Magic exam, and besides, it wasn't  _her_  fault that it was so difficult to follow Professor Binns' droning monotone.

Herbology had been difficult because of the practical portion of the exam; she knew she'd done well at the essay, which had been about the nuances of the Severing Charm - the crossover into Charms, and the discussion she'd had with it earlier in the year with her father had ensured she'd excel at that portion of the exam - but what had undoubtedly hurt her score was the damn puffapods.

They had been required to treat a blight on a puffapod plant, but as the hour ticked away, she still hadn't managed to trim all the dark spots away, because the fragile pods kept getting in the way and bursting when she accidentally touched them. She'd gotten so frustrated that she'd burned the whole plant to ashes with  _Incendio_. When Professor Sprout had chastised her for it during marking, she'd moodily retorted that at least the blight was gone; it was  _true_ , wasn't it?

She had scored precisely average at Care of Magical Creatures, which surprised her, because knew an awful lot about all of the creatures they had studied, what dangers they posed and how to fight them if she encountered a hostile one; but then, she realised, too late, the entire  _point_  of the class was to care for them, not fight them.

She had not done very well at all in Transfiguration, much to her chagrin. She'd hoped to finally catch up to the rest of her class this year, but her progress was still slow, even though there at least was some this year.

Professor McGonagall had called Calista to her office again, and had offered Calista the option to move on to fourth year lessons, if she continued to attend remedial classes, and agreed to study with Percy twice a week. The caveat was that this was the final year McGonagall could give her this option, because she could not in good conscience, allow Calista to take her O.W.L. in Transfiguration when she was a year behind.

Being held back a year was one of the most embarrassing scenarios Calista could envision, so she'd promised to work hard over the summer to catch up as much as she could; because of the O.W.L. exams looming the year after next, Professor McGonagall had advised her to catch up to her own year by the Christmas holidays, if she wanted to avoid being held back to the fourth year again the following year. It seemed easier said than done, but Calista promised, again, to try.

She decided something, when she stared at the page that contained her exam results. She was in her father's office, because was tasked with distributing the results of exams to the students in his house.

"I think… I think I want to drop Care of Magical Creatures next year," Calista said, looking up at him over the top of the score sheet.

"You do?" Severus asked, surprised, "You made such a fuss about being allowed to take it."

"Yeah," she said, "I know. But… I mean, I pretty much just wanted to see a unicorn, and I don't want to have to take care of puffskeins for two more years just for  _that._  Especially when I can just talk  _you_  into taking me into the forest to see one…" she said hopefully.

"We'll see about that," he said, in a tone that made her think it was still a long way off. "I doubt you'll find one, though. They're quite hard to see if they don't wish to be seen."

"Well, still," she said, "It's enough work feeding Yellow all the time. Besides, there's… there's something I'd rather do, with that slot in my timetable," she confessed.

"Ah, of course there is," Severus said, "I should have known there would be; but you do realise that Hogwarts does not offer 'Forbidden Forest Field Trip' as a class, correct?"

"No?" Calista countered, "What about 'Swimming with the Giant Squid'?"

"I'm afraid not. No 'Sneaking off to the Owlery', either."

She did a double-take then, forcing herself not to show fear on her face; how could he possibly know about the Owlery, about meeting Marcus there…

"Is there something I should know about the Owlery?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

He didn't know; of course he didn't know, he  _couldn't_ know, Calista reminded herself, he had to be referencing her trip there, when she was younger, the time she'd almost gotten her face clawed up by an owl when she was supposed to be safe in his quarters.

"You were so cross with me that day," she recalled, to have something to say that might explain whatever expression he'd caught on her face.

"Yes, I was," Severus agreed, "But as I recall, you were a miserable brat that day, so I can hardly be blamed for wanting to lock you in the dungeon for five or ten years. Now… pray tell, if you aren't planning on trying to get yourself killed in place of feeding puffskeins next year, what is it that you wish to do instead?"

"Professor Flitwick asked me earlier this year if I wanted to be a peer tutor for remedial Charms students," she said, "I didn't have time this year, but… if I drop a class, then I could see if he still wants me to do it next year."

"Ah, yes, peer tutors," Severus said, "An option which I have never thought to use; why would I, when detentions are so much more effective?"

"Yeah, see, that's why nobody likes you," Calista teased.

"They don't need to like me," he said, not for the first time, "They need to perform well on their exams."

"So do you think it's a good idea?" she asked, "Tutoring other students in Charms?"

"If you believe it's something you would enjoy doing," he said, "I don't suppose it will do any harm. Though, as I understand it, most students volunteer to be peer tutors so they can get a recommendation letter from their professors for whichever career they pursue after Hogwarts. In your case, I almost wonder if Filius - if Professor Flitwick - has one already written up for you, just waiting for the day you graduate."

"Do professors usually write them so early?" she wondered.

"No," he said, "But professors usually don't admit to having a favourite student, either."

"Really? He said that? He said I was his favourite student?"

"Not in so many words," Severus said, "But he certainly sings your praises to me often enough in the staff room. I think he may like you even more than  _I_  do."

"Oh, well, that's hardly saying much," Calista teased, but she was quite pleased at this news. " _You_  just said you wanted to lock me in a dungeon for five years."

"Or ten," he amended, with a smirk.

**(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)**

On one of the final afternoons of term, a week after the students had received their exam scores, Calista was one of the only ones in the common room, and she  _was_  the only one still hunched over a book.

A couple of first years were playing Exploding Snap across the room from her, which she was finding just distracting enough to annoy her. She riffled the pages in her Transfiguration book, wondering if she'd ever catch up. At least she had finally moved on to third year spells, nearly on the last day  _of_ her third year. She stared glumly at the teapot that sat on the table behind her book, looking very much like it would rather be a teapot for the rest of its days than change into a tortoise for even an instant.

She sighed, trying to block out the twin distractions of the Exploding Snap game, and the welcoming sunlight that managed to filter into the common room, even through the murky-green of the lake above it.

And then, suddenly, there was someone standing over her, and her book snapped shut. A familiar male hand held the cover down, and when she looked up, it was straight into Marcus' face. He was looking at her with mingled friendliness and disbelief. And something else too, some hint of the same warmth he always had for her.

"Exams are over," he said firmly, "No more studying."

"I'm still trying to catch up in Transfiguration," she protested. "Do you… do you want to study with me?"

"No," he said, "I don't."

She started to frown, but hadn't even managed to pull the corners of her mouth down before he leaned over and planted a quick, soft kiss on it.

"I want to fly with you," he said, "Come on, put all that rubbish away and come down to the Quidditch pitch with me."

She felt herself blushing again, and glanced around the room, knowing her eyes were widening with alarm.

"No one's paying attention to us," he said, exasperated. "Look, they're playing Exploding Snap over there, and everyone  _else_  is outside, like we should be. And anyway, I don't care, I'm not the one that thinks it has to be a big secret that we like each other."

She did frown now, and narrow her eyes as she whispered frantically back to him.

"I told you, my dad would probably murder us both if he found out…"

"Nah," he said, "Just me. And I'm not worried about it - that much - so you shouldn't be. Now come on, put that junk away and let's go outside."

She hesitated, but she'd known since he'd come over to her that she was going to go outside with him. "All right," she said, standing and gathering her book, several sheets of parchment she'd laid out for notes, and the blasted teapot. "But… no going upside down, right?"

He made a face. "Fine, I guess. Soon, though."

"Never."

"Soon," he countered again. She rolled her eyes, and went into her dormitory room, throwing all her study materials haphazardly on top of her bed.

When she returned, pulling her hair into a ponytail so she wouldn't be tempted to keep twirling it like an imbecile, she stepped right up to him, looked into his face, the kind, grey eyes that were the first ones she'd seen of that colour not to frighten her. "Never." she repeated, stubbornly.

"Okay," Marcus said, easily, suddenly looking at her intently, although his tone was still light. "Never, if that's what you want."

She smirked, triumphantly. "I knew you'd see it my way," she said, dropping her hands from her hair now that her ponytail was fastened. "Ready, then?"

"Yeah…" his eyes were still fixed on her face. "I like… I like your hair like that," he said, suddenly, awkwardly.

"Oh," she said, feeling self-conscious at once. "It's just… uhm, you know… to keep it out of my face."

"Yeah," Marcus agreed, "I like your -" he stopped, and swallowed, and for some reason, his cheeks flushed slightly. "Er, I mean, it's good, for flying," he said, lamely. "I'd better… I'm gonna go get my broomstick."

When he came back, broomstick over his shoulder, he reached for her hand easily, as if they had done this hundreds of times. When they got to the Quidditch pitch, Calista was surprised that they were the only ones there; she'd thought for sure other students would be out flying, in the warm, early June weather.

"Oh, yeah," Marcus said grinning, when he caught her looking all around. "I told everyone I saw a mermaid this morning, they're all at the lake."

" _Did_  you see a mermaid?" she asked.

"'Course not," Marcus said, letting his broomstick hover next to them, "But I was pretty sure you'd refuse to go flying with me if everyone was watching, so I made them go away." He motioned her onto the broomstick, and she obliged.

"You were probably right," she said.

He climbed on behind her, and adjusted her hands, as if he were still teaching her how to fly, in the days before she'd realised that he liked her too, perhaps even as much as she liked him. There  _was_  something that was markedly different about flying with him this time, though, as opposed to when he'd been teaching her.

This time, before he put his arms around her sides, bringing his hands to rest in front of hers on the broomstick, he wrapped them around her midsection first, and she was startled and pleasantly surprised to feel his mouth come down gently on the back of her neck, and then behind her right ear.

"I'm gonna miss you this summer," he said quietly, right by her ear.

She could feel her skin heating up, turning pink, as he settled his arms around her the proper way, so they could fly. As they lifted off into the warm afternoon air, Calista felt the familiar flutter of fear in her stomach; but it only lasted a minute, and then it settled, and finally she could admit to herself how much she liked having his arms around her, this way. It felt warm, and safe, and she knew by now that he was never going to let her fall.


End file.
